


Swamp on the Edge of Forever

by weepingnaiad



Series: The Reason 'verse [2]
Category: Lord of the Rings (Movies), Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, Destiny, F/M, Fluff, M/M, Meddling Gods, Multi, Psychic Bond, Soul Bond, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-01
Updated: 2012-08-25
Packaged: 2017-11-12 20:16:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/495246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weepingnaiad/pseuds/weepingnaiad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the Fourth Age and the elves are leaving Middle-earth, most have already left.  But Gildor has unfinished business.  He, his mate, and a band of loyal followers have been searching for someone Gildor lost too long ago.  But they're running out of time and places to look.  Is there any hope left that his first love can be found?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The young, the restless, the lost, and the found…

**Author's Note:**

> **Content Advisory:** memory loss, threesome, pining, minor angst with a ridiculously fluffy ending  
>  **Beta:** Thanks so much to the ever creative and encouraging, Chaotic_Binky, without whom this story would not have seen the light of day! Also, thanks as always to my wonderful and supportive hubby (you can credit him for all of the comedic touches and any puns you may find).  
>  **A/N:** This story follows after _'The Reason'_. I decided that I could post this even though that story remains unfinished because it is far enough removed in story years that it does not 'spoil' the other.  
>  **Disclaimer:** These are Tolkien’s characters used in the spirit of creative commons. I promise to return them with smiles on.

_Iavas, Edge of Eryn Vorn, 141 F.A._

Shaking his head in disbelief at how the Valar could ever have chosen to pair two such different creatures, Faron stood at the edge of camp and watched his lady as she watched his lord. His lord, Gildor Inglorion, was an elf who had seen the light of the two trees. At times, Faron believed he could see the actual light of Teleperion shining from Gildor’s eyes and he wondered at all his lord must have seen during his long life. He wore the mantle of leadership with such ease, that it was obvious he was born to the role and had honed it through the ages, until he could convey his demands with few words and calm detachment. The Noldo was a strong leader, though never harsh or arrogant, and he had quickly inspired much loyalty in Faron’s band of wayward Silvan elves during their travels these last decades.

Upon hearing a sigh of frustration, Faron turned his attention to the more puzzling of the pair. Sídhiel was no full-blood elf, as was obvious from her round ears and overripe form. Even though she was quite young, having not yet attained even half a millennia of years, the Peredhel had managed to gain the trust and respect of Faron’s entire troop. There was something in her manner and bearing that the Sinda could not place, but all reacted to it, and listened when Sídhiel spoke. The Sinda wondered if her position and travels during King Elessar’s reign had so enmeshed her in the world of men that she had adopted a mantle of command to which even the Eldar responded.

As the tension between the pair increased, the entire band offered their unwavering, if unspoken, support for the Peredhel. This too, confounded Faron, for Sídhiel was mercurial, so unlike elf-kind. Her changeable nature caused her moods to shift direction swifter than leaves caught in a whirlwind. But, even though her emotions were so often alien to him, her passion and intensity for life inspired him and his brethren to defend their lady with their very lives. However, at this moment, she looked lost and vulnerable, her arms wrapped around herself as she gazed at Gildor from her vantage point among the trees. It was obvious that the pair had argued yet again, and Sídhiel was trying to decide how to approach Gildor.

Faron went to Sídhiel and said, “Just go to him, my Lady. He loves you, does he not?”

At his soft words, Sídhiel, started; having been lost in her own thoughts, she missed his approach. “Faron…“

“Forgive my intrusion, I did not mean to startle you. I just feel that you hesitate when you have no need to.”

In that instant, the lost child vanished, and a mischievous imp appeared. Teasing, she said, “I had no idea our Captain was such an expert in the ways of love. If that be so, then why has he ignored his own desires and not claimed the enticing Doron as his own?”

Faron blushed at her words, even though he knew she said them specifically to get a reaction. He stammered, “My… Lady… please. I wanted to help.”

Relenting at his discomfort, Sídhiel hugged him and said, “Ah, but you did. You pulled me from my self pity and reminded me that he will forgive me yet again, for he does love me.” Pulling away, she gazed into soft brown eyes. “But I was trying to aid you as well. You may believe you have forever to act upon your feelings for our scout, but do not assume so. Fate could be cruel and take him from you before he knows that you care. Do not let that happen.” Lightly kissing his cheek, she walked away.

~~*~~

Gildor surveyed the motley band as they efficiently set up camp and wondered yet again what insanity had convinced these Elves to follow him on this search. He pondered these last decades and realized that Sídhiel was right. This land no longer belonged to the Eldar, for it was becoming increasingly difficult to blend in and gather supplies and information. If this location yielded no more clues than the rest, Gildor must resign himself to the fact that his quest was futile. She may be right, but he was still loathe to admit it, and his stubbornness coupled with her willfulness, had caused yet another argument. As he settled with his back against a tree to await her arrival, his mind drifted back to the first time he began to look at her as being more than Erestor’s daughter …

_  
_

_Flashback to 250 years earlier…_

_Laer, Imladris, 2912 T.A._

_As Sídhiel walked passed, Gildor grabbed her arm and pulled her from the path and into the trees, covering her mouth to prevent her from screaming. Her eyes glared icily at him as he withdrew his hand. “Forgive me for startling you, but I needed to speak to you.”_

_Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she pulled her other arm from his grasp, as she hissed, “So you must accost me to have a few words? I suppose this will not be a discussion of the weather, then, Híren?” Even though she had known him since she was very young, Gildor Inglorion was still an intimidating elf to Sídhiel. For some reason that she refused to delve too deeply into, he could set her nerves twitching with just a glance, but she would not reveal how he affected her._

_“I could hold my tongue no longer,” he scolded. “We have many human visitors and you are wandering around dressed like a Haradrim concubine…” Gildor could not stop his eyes from wandering; the thin silk top barely concealed her ample cleavage, and even sheerer strips of brightly colored silk caressed her legs from a low waistband, leaving her stomach enticingly exposed. The material shimmered in the bright autumn light and clung to Sídhiel’s curves, emphasizing her build; she was more rounded with fuller breasts and hips than any elleth. He shook his head and pulled his eyes back to meet her angry blue ones. “The Rohirrim are a conservative folk and this…” waving his hand at her attire, “Reflects poorly on all of us. I am requesting, nay telling, you to change into more appropriate clothing. I do not know what thoughts, if any, are in your head, but whatever your intent, it is wrong.”_

_His tone attempted to quell all arguments, but Sídhiel had learned under the tutelage of Erestor of Imladris, and there was very little that could stop her once started. “Híren, if you had but inquired, you might have learned why I am dressed this way. But since you deem yourself my keeper, I will let you in on the secret…” she stopped and, with a mischievous gleam in her eye, reconsidered her words; she leaned closer, hoping he could not hear the pounding of her heart, “Ah, the Rohirrim… such raw power… and so sensual under their stiff demeanors… one intrigued me…” she stood on tip toes and moved closer still, breathily whispering past his ear, “and he finds it far more erotic when I am bound to his bed if I am arrayed thusly. So remember when you see me dressed in this manner, it will be for Ealdor’s pleasure.” With that, she raced away, peals of laughter trailing after her._

_Gildor groaned at his body’s reaction to her words and he gritted his teeth at the realization that she had managed to wrest control of the situation from him. She was, indeed, Erestor’s iell. To make matters worse, when the evening’s festivities had adjourned to the Hall of Fire and Sídhiel was performing a sensuous dance in that self same costume, Gildor could not stop the erotic images from flowing through his mind. However, it was not the horse lord’s bed she was tied to._

_End flashback…_

Sídhiel quickly walked to Gildor’s side and quietly sat down next to him. Her leg brushing against his thigh pulled him back to the present. “Forgive me for losing my temper, again. I know how much this means to you…,” she said. The blond put an arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. Closing her eyes and resting her head on his shoulder, she reveled in the unique scent that was Gildor.

“Nay, it should be I that apologizes. I often forget that this is my search alone, and how hard this has been on you.” After brushing a wayward curl from her face, he continued, “Let us delay the discussion of our next course of action until we have thoroughly investigated this area. I feel there is something special about this swamp, but it will not easily reveal its secrets.” Gildor took her hand and held it as he gently brushed his lips against the knuckles.

The tenderness in his gesture filled her with warmth and reassurance. Turning, she kissed him lightly, but did not meet his gaze, for this place filled her with trepidation, and she did not want to reveal her fears to him. Gildor was already overburdened with guilt that Sídhiel was there at all.

~~*~~

Gildor heard the long forgotten song in his dreams. It swept him on currents of memory and emotion, recalling his youth. He was mesmerized by visions long thought lost and the sensations from his misspent early life still resonated deeply within him. The blond awoke, entranced, and silently began to follow its siren song, oblivious that he was leaving Sídhiel asleep in her bedroll.

Gildor followed the song for hours, somehow managing to find his way through the swamp’s treacherous pathways until he came upon a small hut, in a large clearing, surrounded by tall cypress, bay, and willow trees. As he was coming out of the trees, a knife was placed at his throat and a hand over his mouth, effectively ending the spell he had been under. Startled by the press of cold steel biting into his flesh, Gildor tensed, his eyes darting swiftly around the clearing as he assessed his chance of escape.

A deep voice brushed past his ear, “Why have you been hunting me?”

~~*~~

Sidhiel stirred from her slumber, for something had woken her. Gaining her senses, she felt, more than heard, singing, but the language was unknown even though the song deeply moved her. Listening, she looked around the campsite and realized that Gildor was not only gone from her side, he was nowhere to be seen in the small camp. Stretching her mind to reach for her mate, she quickly encountered a wall separating her from him. Misgiving flared in her and she immediately determined to follow him. Realizing that none in Faron’s group would allow her to trail Gildor alone, she quickly grabbed her pack and snuck out of the camp.

~~*~~

Doron was stretching his legs when an Arctic Loon began to sing, or at least that was what bird he thought was creating the haunting song that called to him. The scout resisted its lure and determined to wake his captain, for it was most strange that a bird from the far north would be singing here, so far south, and in the dead of night.

Faron instantly awoke at Doron’s light touch. Sitting up, he worried that something was wrong, but Doron did not seem agitated, just confused. “Doron? Is something the matter?”

“Faron, I swear I hear an Arctic Loon. Can you not hear it? It is calling to me. Do you not think it most odd that a northern bird would be here and be singing in the night? I felt I should alert you in case this is the work of an enemy.”

Faron relaxed at Doron’s words, figuring simply that the scout was overtired and not concentrating. Cocking his head to carefully listen, he said, “Doron, the only bird I hear is a Common Loon. Are you certain you did not doze off?”

Stung by his captain’s words, Doron replied stiffly, “I would never sleep on duty. I am certain that what I heard was not a Common Loon. Besides, no Loon sings at night.”

Faron realized he had hurt Doron’s pride and that was exactly the opposite of what he desired. “You are right, of course. Please, forgive me. I will go with you to check this out.”

Carefully listening, and attempting to determine a direction to begin searching, both elves were confounded as they heard the song and felt its lure, but it seemed to have no distinct direction from whence it came. “Since I can get no bearing on the sound, mayhap we should begin where you were when you first heard it.”

“This way, then.” Doron’s words were clipped and his back stiff as he led Faron to his earlier position.

By this time, Ithil had set and it was hard for even keen elven eyes to discern much in the darkness. As soon as they left the immediate campsite, the song stopped. Faron was determined to heed Doron, so he opted to continue even though they could no longer hear the call. After scouting their environs for an hour, and finding no sign of enemy, nor of any Loons, Faron touched Doron’s arm to stop the scout. “Doron, I know not what we heard, but I do not believe it meant us harm. We should return to camp. Rest yourself and I will finish the watch.”

“I am quite capable of seeing to my duties, Sir.” Doron was aching inside at the thought that his captain did not think him a worthy sentry.

“Peace, mellon nín. I do not doubt your ability. I had some sleep this night, you have had none. I only want you to be rested for we will investigate this further by Anor’s light. Please, take your rest.”

_'I wish I had my lord’s ability with words! Or even my lady’s humor. It seems every word I say only causes him more doubt.'_

Relenting, Doron replied, “Aye, hannon le, Faron. I am most tired.”

“Goodnight, Doron. Rest well.”

~~*~~

No matter how many millennia had passed since Gildor had last heard that voice, his body still reacted in recognition and shuddered at the realization that he had at last found what he sought. When the hand was removed from his mouth, Gildor answered, “I have been seeking you for decades, but you have been most elusive.” As the pressure from the knife lessened, the blond turned to face his captor. “Do you not recognize me, melethron?”

Dark eyes widened and thin lips curved slightly upward. “Gods! Is it really Gildor Inglorion standing before me?”

At Gildor’s blinding smile, he was gathered into a strong embrace.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Iavas – autumn  
> Eryn Vorn – (dark forest) forest by the sea in western Minhiriath  
> Ithil – moon  
> Anor – sun  
> mellon nín – my friend  
> melethron – lover (male)


	2. Searching, finding, and topping…

_Iavas, Edge of Eryn Vorn, 141 F.A._

Sídhiel was irritated that Gildor had left without waking her, but the unique sights of this land were intriguing and she found she was enjoying the journey. Sídhiel gaped at the large cypress and black gum trees with their knees protruding through the spongy ground, all the various ferns clogging the swamp floor, the tangle of vines hanging down to snag her hair, the bromeliads and orchids clinging to the tree trunks, as well as the pitcher plants and sundews that actually ate insects! In all her years of travel, Sídhiel had yet to encounter such an exotic place that seemed so teeming with life, yet was eerily silent, missing the birdcalls and animal noises that she was accustomed to.

“Damn this swamp! By the fires of Mordor, when I find you, Gildor Inglorion, I am going to strangle you!” Sídhiel was covered in muck and mire from her head to her toes, and her clothes were not just filthy but also shredded to rags. She was angry and frustrated because Gildor had not only left her at the campsite, but had also blocked his link with her. To top off her truly rotten day, she was now hopelessly lost. After finding a bit of fairly solid land, she dropped down onto a fallen log and took some lembas and water from her pack. After wandering the entire day, exhaustion and frustration overtook her and she broke down in tears. With growing fear, she realized that she was truly alone for she could not feel any intelligence nearby to ask for help.

_'Well, at least I know there will not be yrch or other foul beasts near me this night.'_

After eating some of the lembas, Sídhiel finally gathered her wits about her, knowing that no help would be forthcoming unless she could clear her mind and concentrate. While trying to settle her riotous emotions and clear her mind of all distractions, she slid from the log to the springy ground and sat cross-legged. She learned long ago that her gift was useless unless her own emotions were quiescent. Beginning to breathe slowly and evenly she closed her eyes, gradually increasing the depth and length of each cycle of her lungs.

Once calmed, Sídhiel opened her mind and began to sense the emotions that were around her. Unfortunately, she felt no real comprehension, mostly perceiving small rodents whose emotions were only dichromatic: fear and hunger. Pushing herself deeper and stretching out farther, she hoped to discern a higher order intelligence; one that might be able to aid her.

After scanning for far longer and farther than she had attempted ever before, Sídhiel finally felt a faint spark of recognition. She targeted the spark and focused all her energy in that direction. It was definitely an animal, but at this distance, she could neither identify it nor commune with it. Centering herself, she sent a small nucleus of energy to her target, spiraling a thin web-like line behind it. With this link in place, she should be able to track the animal.

Unfortunately, this effort depleted her already over-taxed energy stores, and Sídhiel succumbed to a deep sleep almost instantly.

~~*~~

Maglor delighted in the press of a warm body against his own again. This particular body was especially enticing, for Gildor fit next to him as though he had been created solely for Maglor. “Your radiance has not dimmed, sweet one. Even after all these millennia, your light still draws me as the moth to the flame.”

Gildor leaned into the arms surrounding him, as his lips were claimed in a bruising, desperate kiss. Desire coursed through his veins as long forgotten memories resurfaced. Hearing that rich, honeyed voice, wrapping him in its sensual embrace, did things to Gildor’s body and emotions that he was not prepared for. He felt himself slipping away, falling into those same primitive emotions and desires that had overwhelmed him so long ago. He could not stop the tidal wave that was roaring through him, nor did he truly wish to.

Feeling strong hands tangling in his hair and pulling his head back, Gildor moaned loudly. Maglor could not resist the temptation the flesh of Gildor’s neck presented to him, so he leaned down and sucked hard, bringing blood up to mark the blond as his, once again. Knowing that he was being obviously marked, further enflamed Gildor, and he could not suppress a shiver as those lips closed over his skin.

Pulling back to survey his handiwork, Maglor again marveled at how responsive Gildor was to his touch; his normally light grey eyes had darkened with desire, and his fair skin was flushed pink. The slightly open mouth presented too tempting a vision and he had to claim those soft lips again. Licking and nibbling the kiss swollen flesh, he thrust his tongue into the sweet cavern and reclaimed every bit of it. Finally, needing to breathe and regain some semblance of control, Maglor tilted his head back, but would not release Gildor from his embrace. “Gods! It has been far too long. I need you… desperately. Come.”

Feeling those words uttered with such feeling… for him… Gildor was lost, unable to refuse anything. They walked toward the hut, and Maglor could not let go; he needed the reassurance that the body next to him was real and not just another dream.

They walked through the door of the hut and Maglor kicked the door closed with his heel. He continued to push Gildor forward, until he was standing by a pile of furs before the fireplace. “You have too many clothes on, pen valthen nín. Let me remedy this.” Gildor shivered as his tunic and undershirt were quickly removed and he stood there before Maglor’s hungry gaze. “You are still so fair…” Strong hands were caressing first his arms, and then his back, as Maglor paced around him. “The years have been kind to you. I see but few scars…” A wet finger traced the faint silvery line on his side and stroked up to lightly brush one pink nipple.

The touch sent sparks through Gildor’s frame and he gasped. “Please…” he begged, but was unsure of what he asked for.

“So responsive. You have ever been my measure of a bed partner. Were you even aware of that?” Gildor had no chance to respond; his mouth was claimed and his body was pulled against Maglor’s own. The surfeit of sensations overwhelmed Gildor as his mouth was plundered. His back, side, and arms were caressed by strong calloused hands, which seemed to be in more places than two hands could be; his nipples and chest brushing against Maglor’s rough tunic.

Gildor’s moans so enflamed Maglor that he had to pull away from the heated skin pressed against him. Trying to slow the firestorm overtaking him, he pulled off his own tunic and linen undershirt, hoping the air would cool his ardor. With Gildor standing there so compliant, simply waiting for whatever Maglor deemed to give him, his eyes half-lidded, lips kiss swollen and panting heavily, nothing could make Maglor’s desire wane. Thinking of what was to come, the dark elf quickly grabbed a vial of oil and set it on the hearth.

Maglor embraced Gildor and the skin-to-skin contact only enhanced the sensations flooding Gildor. “I want to taste you, pen valthen nín. Lie down.” As Gildor lay down on the furs, Maglor quickly got down onto his knees and began unlacing the blond’s leggings. “You are as beautiful as ever!” As Maglor began to slide the leggings down Gildor’s legs, he tasted the newly bared skin with his tongue, following the leggings down and past Gildor’s ankles.

As Maglor made his way up strong calves and began to nip and lick at the sensitive skin behind his knees, Gildor groaned in appreciation. His knees spread and he completely exposed himself to Maglor’s gaze. “Impatient are we, my wanton beauty?” Maglor chuckled, but could not resist the open invitation. As he slid his tongue slowly over the fair skin, he drank in the sweet salty flavor and inhaled deeply of the scent of Gildor. It had been millennia since last he was in this position, but the essence was burned into his very fëa.

Reaching under Gildor, he grasped the firm globes of his ass and slightly lifted the blond elf to his mouth. As he completely engulfed his raging arousal, a sweet cry escaped the Gildor’s lips, making Maglor more determined than ever, to make this a mind blowing experience for his regained lover.

All coherence fled Gildor, and he could only lay back and revel in the joy given to him. As he tried to thrust up into the hot, wet cavern, his ass was firmly grasped in one hand while another pressed him down into the furs. Maglor felt the tremors from the elf beneath him and he began to increase the suction whilst slowing his speed. The blond thrashed his head and tightly gripped the furs to keep his hands from forcing the dark elf to speed up. As the fire began to build, and Gildor’s orbs tightened with impending release, he was reduced to babbling. Maglor smiled around the turgid length and began to hum as he sucked and dipped his tongue in the weeping slit. That was all it took to send his lover into oblivion. He came with a harsh cry, spurting his essence down the dark elf’s willing throat.

Magor continued to suck lightly at the softening arousal, licking it clean of its tangy essence. He looked up into half lidded grey eyes and quickly slid up the sweaty skin to take the pink lips in a gentle, loving kiss. Maglor was surprised at the fervor with which his kiss was returned, seeing how thoroughly sated Gildor was. “You are still the fairest, melethron. My heart has ever been in your keeping from that first glimpse of you. Can I make love to you as I did that first night, those many ages ago, when I claimed your virginity?” As he waited for Gildor’s response, he began licking and nibbling the blond’s chin and neck, while his hand stroked the firm planes and valleys of the body beneath him. Maglor’s arousal, hot and throbbing, pressed into his lover’s side, but he would be patient, for he desired to worship the blond and remind him that he had always been well loved in his hands.

Gildor was boneless and awash in a sea of pleasant emotions. He was lying beneath the ellon that had consumed him, from the first time he had ever laid eyes on the second son of Fëanor. The tenderness and devotion he experienced surprised him. Maglor was a consummate, if demanding, lover and the blond had always followed wherever he led. “Meleth nín, take me. Remind my body to whom it belongs.”

At those utterances, Maglor began to caress, to savor, and to worship at the altar of his heart’s desire. He had thought himself truly lost from ever knowing such exquisite delights again, so he was determined that he would revel in the repast before him. 

First came the feast for the eyes… Gildor lay there, bared to Maglor’s heated gaze; his normally light grey eyes dark as a storm tossed sea beneath half-closed lids. His golden hair spread beneath him in a wild mass of honeyed wheat. Luscious pink kiss swollen lips tested the dark elf’s self control as he fought to keep from leaning in and seizing the soft flesh in yet another blistering kiss. The edges of his lips curled in a slight sultry smile, leading the eye to follow the sweep of a cheekbone up to a gracefully pointed ear tip. From the top of the ear, Maglor’s gaze swept across lightly arched brows to a perfectly straight nose, which he could not resist, and dropped a light kiss upon.

From the perfect face to the perfect form, Maglor delighted in the delicate column of pale flesh as Gildor arched his back and bared his now thoroughly marked skin. Moving to follow the strong line of a shoulder down the well-muscled upper arm, the dark elf was amazed at how much larger his lover’s shoulders, arms, and chest were, than when he last viewed them. It was obvious that Gildor was most comfortable wielding a long sword by the definition of his muscles. Eyes never ceasing, the son of Fëanor continued to delight in the banquet before him.

As his hands twitched from the effort of restraint, Maglor’s dark eyes continued to peruse the perfect torso, from the steel swathed in silk of his pectorals, to the hills and valleys of his abdomen. Forcing his eyes to pass by the reawakening shaft, the dark elf’s gaze shifted down long lean legs, honed by millennia of battle and horse riding, to finish at bare feet.

Maglor breathed deeply in anticipation, for now his hands could travel the trail his eyes had just traversed. Starting with firm caresses, his strong calloused hands massaged Gildor’s feet, eliciting soft sighs from him. As the dark elf moved his ministrations slowly up the blond’s limbs, Gildor was torn between complete relaxation and extreme anticipation. When Maglor’s hands kneaded his thighs, Gildor spread his legs in invitation. “Ah, velui nín, always eager, but I shall not rush this feast. Each course is meant to be savored.”

Gildor groaned as his shaft was summarily bypassed in favor of his abdomen and sides. “Turn over, ind nín. I intend to sample all of you.” Beginning at his buttocks, Maglor firmly massaged and caressed every inch of the blond’s back, wresting moans of delight from his lips. As the dark elf’s control faltered, he covered the blond’s body with his own and gently ground his arousal between the firm globes beneath him.

“You have bewitched me. I can wait no longer.” Reaching for the oil, Maglor uncorked it, and drizzled it between Gildor’s cheeks; the cold oil causing him to flinch. “Shhh. You will be warm soon.” Pouring oil into his palm, Maglor laid beside Gildor, his knee holding the blond’s legs apart, as his fingers began to massage and tease the puckered opening. “Look at me, pen valthen nín.” Gildor turned his head and looked into Maglor’s dark eyes. He was pinned by that intense gaze, but he could wish for nothing more than to be taken, consumed, and owned once again.

Maglor leaned in and claimed Gildor’s lips as he eased in a well oiled finger. Long simmering, barely banked desire, swept through the dark elf as he began to prepare the tight passage. “Gods! You are so tight! This shall be so like the first time, melethron.” He poured more oil, added another finger, and carefully began twisting his digits. He would not hurt his lover, and so he would take his time, no matter how costly to his patience. Finally, feeling that the passage was relaxed enough for more deeper thrusting, Maglor began to hunt for the bundle of nerves that would begin his lover’s spiral to oblivion. He knew at once when he had brushed the right spot, for Gildor cried out and thrust against the fingers in him. After more oil and another digit were added, the tight passage was loosened enough, and, if Gildor’s pleas were any indication, Maglor needed to get on with it. “Turn over. I wish to see you as I take you, just as I did that first night.”

Gildor was breathtaking in his desire-fueled daze and Maglor quickly coated himself liberally with oil before placing the blond’s legs over his shoulders and positioning himself at the tight opening. “Please…” Gildor begged. The dark elf pushed in slowly, breathing deeply and barely holding himself in check, as his arousal was painfully squeezed in the clenching sheath. Once he managed to pass the guardian ring, he continued to inch in, carefully, until he was fully housed inside Gildor, who by now, was panting heavily and trying to still his trembling body. It had been so very long since he had been the sheath to anyone, and even longer since he had been Maglor’s. He craved it; needed it, but was now dizzy with pain and pleasure as he felt himself impaled and stretched wider than he ever remembered.

Even in his lust fogged state, Maglor was acutely aware of the needs of the twitching form beneath him. In order to calm and relax Gildor, he grabbed more oil and began to stroke the blond’s arousal. As the dark elf’s caress strengthened and Gildor could focus on his shaft, he finally began to relax. At that subtle cue, Maglor began to move slowly and carefully, gently sliding in and out, searching for the right spot to target. He found it when Gildor cried out and arched into him, and so he aimed for it as he began to increase the length of his strokes. The blond was reaching a crescendo of pleasure as he thrust up into the warm hand fisting him and down onto the shaft that impaled him. “More! Harder… faster!” Maglor obliged, pulling out almost completely and then snapping his hips and rapidly thrusting in to the hilt. As his control faltered and he felt the precipice before him, Maglor continued to pump Gildor’s shaft while leaning down and plundering his mouth. “Come for me. Scream my name.” With two more firm strokes, the blond did just that, his passageway spasming tightly and wrenching Maglor’s climax from him as warm essence shot on to his stomach and filled his body.

Maglor collapsed, but carefully rolled onto his side, as he took the trembling blond with him. They lay there until both heartbeats slowed and they could breathe without gasping. Gildor was boneless and sated, barely able to keep his eyes open, as he was held tightly against his lover’s chest. In moments he drifted off to sleep, lulled by the sound of the dark elf’s strong heartbeat.

A single tear slid from beneath Maglor’s tightly closed lids as he thought of how long he had forgone this feeling. He held in his arms, again, the only elf he had ever loved. Listening to the deep, even breathing from the golden ellon in his arms, Maglor relaxed and whispered, “I love you, meleth nín. I do not know why you came to me, but I will always be eternally grateful.” Ignoring their sticky state, he snuggled closer to his beloved and fell into a deep sleep.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Iavas – autumn  
> Eryn Vorn – (dark forest) forest by the sea in western Minhiriath  
> lembas – elven way bread  
> yrch – orcs  
> pen valthen nín – my golden one  
> fëa – soul  
> melethron – lover (male)  
> meleth nín – my love  
> velui nín – my lovely  
> ind nín – my heart


	3. Swamp dreams, finer things, lost loons, and Lórien moons…

_Iavas, Edge of Eryn Vorn, 141 F.A._

Sídhiel awoke, disoriented and aching, her muscles stiff from lying on the cool, moist ground. It was not yet daybreak, dawn’s first light seeming still to be hours away. She sat up and groaned as she began to work out her muscles. A deep restlessness and yearning welled up in her, fueling her desire to continue the search; however, Anor would not rise for some time and the swamp was treacherous enough by day, so she had to quell her urge to leave.

Doubting that she could fall asleep again, Sídhiel attempted to soothe her jangling nerves by again testing her link with Gildor, hoping that he was no longer walled off from her. She relaxed and delved deep inside herself to the continuous flame that burned at her core. Once finding it, she stretched out her mind and began to seek him. Finally, she felt a light presence, calm and quiescent as though asleep, but still blocked from her. The knowledge that he was most likely safe, calmed her nerves slightly, but she worried as to why he would deny her access to his mind. Fretting and freeing her mind to roam, she eventually fell into a dreamless slumber.

As her eyes opened, Sídhiel realized that she was no longer in the swamp, but instead she was in a place she had only been in twice before. Sitting up, she looked for the lord of this garden, knowing he would soon arrive.

Sídhiel was not disappointed for, in a few short minutes, the dark haired lord walked up, smiling brightly at her. She immediately stood and bowed, not daring to speak before being spoken to. Being the lesser here, she knew she should not have raised her body until allowed to, but her frustration overcame her years of training, and she met silver eyes with questions in her dark, blue ones.

“Please, my child, you know me well enough to relax and put away the formalities. Come. Sit with me on this bench by the stream. We have much to discuss.”

“My Lord Irmo, to what do I owe the honor of being allowed to visit the incomparable gardens of Lórien again?” Sídhiel heard the sarcasm in her voice and cringed. Closing her eyes tightly, she clamped down on the apprehension that was swelling inside her.

“Sídhiel, it has been awhile since we last met. I would like to inquire as to how you have been.” The Vala reached to brush wavy tendrils from her face, but she turned away, and stood.

As the words began tumbling from her mouth, the Peredhel paced. “My Lord, please do not think me ungracious, but I know full well that you did not bring me here to discuss pleasantries. I have been here exactly twice before in my lifetime, and neither could be considered pleasant experiences for me.” She trembled with foreboding, her weakness causing her to be angry with herself. Sídhiel continued sharply, “This is about Gildor is it not? What do you request of me this time?”

Irmo pursed his lips at her tone, but answered lightly, “I simply want you to return to the campsite. The rest of your party needs to know that you are well so that they will not attempt to follow you into the swamp. I ask no hardship of you; just do not follow Gildor to the culmination of his search.”

Sídhiel whirled on him, her eyes flashing angrily, “No hardship? How can you say that? I am simply to walk away? Forget that Gildor is most likely somewhere in that damnable swamp with Maglor?” She clenched her fists at her sides, attempting to keep her composure, but the dawning realization of what was being asked of her, and the inevitability of it was shredding her self-control.

Suddenly, strong arms embraced her from behind. Sídhiel stiffened, but the Vala gently turned her and pulled her against his chest. Even though she tried to hold them back, tears flowed down her cheeks. “Sweet one, you yourself had considered this very possibility when you agreed to aid his search. If Gildor had asked it of you, were you not willing?”

Sídhiel struggled to pull away, “Stay out of my thoughts! Damn it! Do I have nothing that is mine and mine alone?” She flopped to the grass and pulled her knees to her chest, resting her head on her knees. “Can I not just return your blasted ‘gift’ and be done with this?”

“This has nothing to do with your gift. You have done all that is asked of you in the past and for that we are grateful. But there is this last thing you will do; step out of the weaving of Gildor’s life.”

His words sundered her fëa, but she called on countless years of training to keep from crying out. “My Lord? I must know…” she hesitated. “Was it so easy for him? Was I instantly forgotten when his eyes looked upon his first love once again?”

“You are not forgotten. I have clouded his most recent life in his mind. He sees his past through a mist of his present. This is painful for you, I know, but it is necessary.” Irmo looked upon her stricken visage with compassion, but the tone of his voice left no doubt as to the outcome. Sídhiel would concede and agree to whatever they asked of her, yet again.

“Of course, Híren, as you wish. May I rest here, alone, for awhile longer?” Her voice was flat and barely audible, even to the Vala’s acute hearing.

“Stay as long as you desire. I will provide food and drink. Just call when you wish to return.” The Vala reached down to lightly stroke her hair as he walked past her. “Námarië, Sídhiel.”

Believing she was alone, Sídhiel lay down in the grass curled up in a fetal position, her body racked by silent sobs.

Estë clucked her tongue as her husband, Irmo, approached. “That was cruel of you. Why did you not tell her the fullness of it?”

“My dear, why do you assume that there is more than what I relayed to her?”

“You are not serious? You demand that she give up her mate in favor of another and you do not tell her the whole of it? How do you expect her to react? She has always been impetuous, what is to prevent her from doing something extremely rash now? She could easily end up in Mandos’ Halls and where would that leave your plotting?”

“She is too stubborn and head strong. If she thought that he was not lost to her, she would never cease her search. She had already found a manner in which she could locate them that I am unable to counter. Nay. She will not know all of it. It is too soon.” Irmo was adamant in his refusal, and in his firmness, he missed his wife’s expression.

“Ah, meleth nín, go take your rest. I know how these things always tire you out. I will see to Sídhiel’s needs and return her when she is ready.” Estë said, as she leaned up and gave a soft kiss to her husband before walking away.

~~*~~

Estë silently walked up to Sídhiel. She waved her hands over the still sobbing form, and the elleth was instantly placed into a deep slumber. Kneeling down, the Vala brushed stray locks from Sídhiel’s tear stained face and whispered, “Rest, my child. You have a long road ahead of you, but the end will be worth your effort.”

~~*~~

Gildor stretched languidly as dappled light streamed in the windows and eased him back to awareness. His body was sore, wonderfully sore, and very sticky, ensuring that he did not forget who owned him once again. The dark elf came into the cottage and smiled wistfully at the sensuous picture before him. The golden ellon was laid out nude on furs and pillows, his fair skin liberally covered with evidence of the previous nights activities. As he sat up and stretched, his hair fell forward, obscuring his features. Maglor felt himself harden at the wanton scene, but he wanted to bathe first, and felt that the blond would too. “Meleth? Would you care to bathe with me? I have laid out soaps and oils by the hot spring behind the hut. It feels truly wonderful on overworked muscles.”

Tossing his hair over his shoulder, and standing, Gildor replied, “That sounds heavenly.” He reached for the dark elf’s outstretched hand. “Lead on, melethron.” 

Gildor sank into the water, allowing the intense heat to soothe his aches, a blissful sigh escaping his lips. Maglor reclined against one of the sides with his long legs stretched out under the surface, while he watched his lover through half-lidded eyes. Once the blond resurfaced, after dunking himself to completely wet his hair, the dark elf motioned to him. “Come here and I shall tend to your hair and back.”

As he was being lovingly washed, memories of joyous times spent in his lover’s care flooded Gildor’s mind, but one thing was missing. “I have yet to hear your voice, seron vell. Sing for me?”

The second son of Fëanor’s heart swelled at the earnest request and, after briefly contemplating which song he would sing, he began to croon the haunting, melancholy song he had composed after sending his beloved away. 

The golden ellon turned to face his lover when he heard the first strains of the unfamiliar melody. Once he realized that the mournful song was created for him, Gildor closed his eyes against the pain of countless millennia apart. Leaning into the strong chest, he reveled in the deep voice rumbling against his ear.

As the haunting notes faded away, Gildor gazed at the face of his lover, whose eyes were tightly closed. “If you truly felt that way, why did you force me to leave?” The blond was puzzled by the strong emotions of the song, and although he had always suspected the true reason, he needed to hear the words from his lover’s lips.

Clasping the blond tightly to his chest, Maglor breathed deeply, for his lover deserved nothing less than the truth. “I knew what Maedhros had planned, but I did not dream we would be successful. I just expected that we would die right there and that blasted oath would have taken its due.” Opening his eyes to stare into Gildor’s, he continued after a short pause, “I needed to know that you were safe, that no harm would come to you, otherwise I could not have faced what was to come.”

“But…” The dark elf pressed a finger to Gildor’s lips.

“Shhh. You may not believe this, but it was all for the best. We both went mad when we finally held the jewels. Even now I can see my brother’s face, no sanity left in his eyes, as he jumped into that fiery crevasse.” Gildor’s strong arms wrapped around the dark elf, giving him comfort, pulling him back to the present. “I could not stop him, and in truth, I did not even try. I still bear the scar from holding that accursed thing. Everything else healed with time, even my mind, but not my hand. It is an ever constant reminder, of everything and everyone that was destroyed and unmade.”

Maglor tilted his head down and pressed a light kiss to the blond’s lips. “Scoot up out of the water with me. I find I am becoming overheated and, from your face, you are as well.”

As both ellyn moved to sit on the top ledge, the morning air caressed their wet bodies and began to cool them off. They sat, back to back, in quiet contemplation. Gildor’s head was full of so many questions, but he could wait before pressing for further answers.

~~*~~

Faron looked up from the fire as he heard a disgusted grunt, and there, tiredly dragging into camp, were four bedraggled elves led by Doron. They had set out at dawn to follow Gildor and Sídhiel and trail them into the swamp, but had come back empty handed. “Doron, what has happened? Why are you here without them?” All four elves stiffened at his tone, realizing that they had let not only their captain down, but also the lord and lady. They stood, silently, waiting for the report to be delivered.

Doron turned an exhausted visage to his captain and attempted to straighten to deliver the details of his failed mission. “Sir, the lady’s trail was initially quite easy to follow. It did not seem that she had made any attempt to hide her path, so I was quite confident that we could catch her before nightfall. However, we came to a point where she must have taken a rest break and then completely lost her. The trail we followed from that point onward only led us back here.” 

Faron watched as his best trackers stood stiffly, totally defeated, and keenly feeling their failure. The captain did not understand what could have happened, for Sídhiel was no wood elf and could not conceal her tracks if she had been trying. In puzzlement, he asked, “You tracked her so far and then followed the same trail in reverse? I know your skills, how is this even possible?”

Doron came to the trackers’ defense immediately. “Sir, it is not their fault. We were all certain that we were continuing to follow a new trail forward, but there must be an enchantment in that place.” Looking directly into his captain’s eyes, he continued, “I heard the Loon again, just after we found her resting place. I believe our confusion stems in some way from that birdcall, as though it bewitched our senses.”

The captain was uncertain what to think, but he did concede, if only to himself, that something odd must be occurring, for their lady was not skilled at concealment nor tracking, so how else to explain that she just vanished? “Did you find any sign of our lord? Any indication at all that he went into the swamp?”

Shaking his head, the overtired ellon replied, “No, no sign at all, but, in truth, I did not expect to be able to track him. This is Gildor Inglorion we are speaking of.”

Looking about the camp, Faron realized that he would have to handle this situation carefully, for none of the group would happily leave without their lord and lady; however he did have his orders if something like this occurred. “Doron, would you walk with me?” Nodding toward the others, he said, “The rest of you eat and sleep. We will decide our next steps at Anor’s first light.”

When both ellyn were far enough out of camp that their words would not be overheard, Faron began, “Meldir, had Gildor ever mentioned to you his concerns for this quest?”

“Nay, he never spoke a word to me, and the lady only mentioned one thing, that they were searching for someone and not something, a critical distinction, I would wager.” Doron always marveled at how much his lady could talk without ever actually revealing any information. He assumed it was a habit learned from long years as a diplomat.

“Well that is actually less important than the oath that our lord made me give before we even set out upon this search. I do not believe our lady knew of it, but Gildor would not consent to our joining them unless I first agreed.”

“What oath do you speak of?” The younger guard was confused, for this information had never been discussed before, not once in over two decades.

Sighing, Faron said, “If something ever happened to our lord, we were to immediately stop the search and get the lady to safety in Dol Amroth.” Sensing that Doron was going to interrupt, Faron shook his head and continued, “If both were to go missing, we were to spend no more than a single cycle of the moon searching, and then take ourselves to Dol Amroth. There will be instructions in the great library there.”

Stunned at his captain’s words, Doron looked into light grey eyes, and began pleading, “But, Faron, that is not long enough to completely search this place! You cannot mean to leave them here?”

“Of course I would not leave them here! But, if we cannot find them in that time, what options do I have? I swore to our lord that I would do as he bid. I cannot break my oath!” Scrubbing his hands over his face, Faron grimaced at the ellon in front of him. Doron’s clothes were filthy and torn in places, and it was obvious that the younger elf needed a bath, food, and a good night’s sleep. “Forgive me, mellon nín, you are exhausted. I should not have brought this up at this time. We can discuss it further after you have rested.”

As he turned to walk away, Faron felt a tentative touch on his shoulder. Turning back, he met light blue eyes, “Hannon le for sharing your burden with me, it is an honor that you trust me. We will not fail them.” Doron was overcome by his own weariness, but the look in his captain’s eyes stirred something he had been suppressing, and he clasped arms with the taller elf as he touched their foreheads together, trying to give the captain his unwavering support and some modicum of comfort.

~~*~~

As consciousness returned to Sídhiel, she realized that she was lying in a comfortable bed instead of still being on the ground by the stream. Once fully awake, a dull ache flooded Sídhiel’s core and she curled up into a ball. Her mind clouded by the pain; red-rimmed eyes peered up into warm green ones, as she gritted her teeth and asked, “My Lady, will it get worse? This pain, I mean.”

Estë frowned at Sídhiel’s state and reached to stroke her cheek. The Vala’s confusion was evident as she asked, “Why should it worsen, my child?”

“When… when…” Sídhiel stammered. “When Gildor severs our bond. I cannot bear it. Please. Just end it now.” She was sobbing again.

Pulling the distraught elleth into her arms, Estë rubbed her back, and tried to soothe her fears. “My child, believe me, all will be well. This pain will cease if you will but listen, and trust me.” She continued as Sídhiel struggled to catch her breath, “Do not fear the dissolution of your bond. I cannot speak more plainly, but, in this, you must trust me.”

The comforting embrace Estë was providing seemed to ease the pain and grounded Sídhiel, thus she was able to regain a small measure of composure before stating, “But, Lord Irmo… he demanded that I leave the tapestry of Gildor’s life.” Shuddering, she closed her eyes and leaned into the Vala’s warmth, “I cannot live without him, my Lady. If that is the Valar’s demand, then I do not desire to draw further breath.”

Estë lifted Sídhiel’s chin, “Open your eyes and look at me, child.” She did as commanded. “My husband’s exact words were ‘step out of the weaving of Gildor’s life’ were they not?” Sídhiel nodded slightly. The Vala then continued in a hushed voice, “But did he specify for how long?”

Sídhiel’s eyes widened at Estë’s words. “Why are you aiding me?”

“My child, I am called Estë the Gentle for a reason. I do not travel to your world, for there is too much pain and anguish and I could not bear it. You are here and hurting, so I want to help you.”

“Hannon le.” Sídhiel replied quietly, a small bloom of hope flaring in her breast.

The Vala released Sídhiel and stood up as she was speaking, “Stay here and rest, refresh yourself. Enjoy all that is available here and in the gardens. I will return to check on you later.”

Estë left and Sídhiel began to examine her surroundings. She noticed that she was in a small cottage with light streaming in from the large leaded glass windows across the room. There was a small bathing chamber behind a partially open door, an unlit fireplace with pale floral pillows piled before it, an overstuffed settee, and comfortable, upholstered chairs surrounding a table laden with food and drink. The entire cottage was decorated in light wood and floral fabrics, lending it an open, summery feel.

The Vala’s presence had given Sídhiel strength and lessened her pain, but Estë’s words had provided immeasurable comfort. Feeling better, she took the opportunity to bathe. The chamber was small with a sunken tub, but the taps provided warm water and there were many wonderfully scented oils and soaps. Sídhiel indulged herself, as it had been a long while since she had access to such luxuries, and she stayed in the bath until she was practically dozing in the, by now cool, water. Rising from the tub, she shivered, and quickly covered her body and hair with the soft, thick towels provided. Planning to eat something, she walked toward the food, but the settee beckoned. She stretched out, quickly succumbing to her exhaustion, and fell into a dreamless sleep.

When Sídhiel awoke, it was dark in the little cottage, but candles had been lit throughout, bathing the room in soft, flickering light. Realizing that she was still clad only in towels, Sídhiel grimaced as it dawned on her what a mass of tangles her hair must be. Her stomach chose that moment to make itself known, so she arose to dress, finding that a beautiful light grey shift had been laid out on the bed. Assuming it was for her, she quickly donned it and attempted to run her fingers through her hair. It was an impossible chore at the moment and, since her hunger was growing, she gave up on her appearance and walked to the table.

As Sídhiel finished a light meal, for she had very little appetite, Estë walked in and sat with her. The Vala surveyed the Peredhel and clucked her tongue at the state she was in. “My child, it is obvious that you need more recovery time. These gardens are beautiful and quite soothing to the battered soul, especially when Ithil’s light bathes everything in silver and shadow. Come and take a walk with me.”

As the Vala showed Sídhiel all the sights of her garden by night, the Peredhel realized that the magic of Lórien was soothing her cares and helping to mend the hole in her heart.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Anor – sun  
> fëa – soul  
> híren – my lord  
> Námarië – good bye (Quenya)  
> meleth nín – my love  
> meleth – love  
> melethron – lover (male)  
> seron vell – beloved  
> meldir – my friend  
> mellon nín – my friend  
> hannon le – thank you  
> Ithil – moon


	4. Questions answered, plans unveiled, and oaths revealed…

_Iavas, Edge of Eryn Vorn, 141 F.A._

Standing in the door of the hut, Maglor smiled at the scene before him. Gildor stood at the small table, preparing vegetables for a stew for their dinner; his sleeves pushed up past his elbows and his hair pulled into a single braid down his back. Many stray tendrils had made their way loose and were teasing his face, causing him to continually blow them away.

Hearing the soft chuckle from the door, light grey eyes locked with Maglor’s, before returning to their task. “Are you just going to stand around staring, or can you make yourself useful?”

The dark elf strode into the hut and tossed his catch on the table. “How do four prepared and dressed rabbits sound? Useful enough for you?” He quickly walked behind the blond and gathered him in his arms, then proceeded to kiss him senseless. “Or is there another use you have in mind for me?”

Trying to disentangle himself from the arms encircling him, Gildor replied, “If you cannot restrain yourself, dinner will be greatly delayed. Can I at least get the stew on the fire first?”

Maglor released the blond, grabbed a carrot, and began noisily crunching on it. “Aye, I will wait until dinner is cooking. You are just so irresistible, meleth, how do you expect me to keep my hands from your luscious form?”

After playfully pushing his persistent lover away, Gildor efficiently cut up the rabbits and they quickly joined the vegetables and spices in the stew pot, which he hung over the fire. Maglor moved out of the way and leant against the wall, content to observe. Once he had placed a lid on the pot, Gildor moved back to the table to clean up the peelings and bones. He was aware that Maglor was just standing there, smiling. “You do realize that this would go faster if you helped.”

“Aye, I am aware of that, but I am enjoying the show. It is pleasant to have you here, just being domestic. Something we have never really done.” It was true. In their years together, they never had the luxury of normalcy. There was always fighting, running, war councils, never anything as simple as preparing a meal together. There had been no time for the simple pleasantries of life.

Gildor washed his hands and wiped them on a towel before turning to look at Maglor. His words had evoked memories and feelings that had been long buried. Thinking on what they had endured in their time together, Gildor was amazed that they had found any time for each other. Extending his hand to his lover, he walked to the fireplace and the pile of pillows and furs. Maglor walked with him eagerly. The blond was still like a siren call to him, as he had been from the very first.

Sinking to his knees, Gildor encouraged Maglor to lie down on his stomach and stretch out. There were questions that needed to be asked and it was often easier to deal with these things when you did not feel the pressure of eyes upon you. The blond began to expertly knead Maglor’s muscles through his shirt. He wanted this to be relaxing, not sensual, at least not yet.

“Maglor? Why did you never seek me out? After… you know. So much time had passed. Why did you not try to find me?” The thought that Maglor had cast Gildor aside, still ate at him and he needed to understand what had happened to the dark elf in the intervening years.

Maglor had been relaxed and comfortable, not sensing the setup for more intense questioning, until that question. “Gildor.” He tensed and tried to turn over, but the blond pressed him down firmly, obviously he did not want this to be a face to face confrontation. Closing his eyes, he began to tell an abbreviated version of his life since they parted. “I watched you for as long as I was able. It should not have surprised me how easily Elrond and Gil-galad would take you in. I need not have worried, but I did fear for you. I kept reassuring myself until you had gained a position so near to the king that I could no longer watch you without being discovered.” Remembering that day, when he vowed to walk away forever, knowing that Gildor was better off without him, still hurt. But, the blond was here with him now, the pain was in the distant past.

“I left then. I made my way out of the elven realms and far into the reaches of Man. I told my heart you were better off without me and I had seen with my own eyes the truth of that… so to me, you and all of Elvenkind were dead. I have seen much of Middle Earth. The men lead such brutish, short lives, but that eases concealment. I need only to be gone twenty years and then I can return, as my own son. Very convenient, indeed.”

Gildor had kept up his massage, having that to concentrate on, instead of his emotions, kept him from crying out and interrupting. “But… I was not dead. You knew that. Make me understand.”

“I was not going to saddle you with me. There were no few elves, and still are, that would like to see me drawn and quartered. What would they have done to you if they learned you were my lover? How better to bring me to my knees than through you?”

Gildor heard the truth in those words and knew that none except the trusted few closest to them ever knew that he was Maglor’s lover. The dark elf had always been careful of him. He remembered that it had chafed at first, as he was young and wanted to shout his love to the sky, but Maglor was ever shrewd and careful and had not allowed that, nor had he even made it known how his feelings ran. “But, it hurt. I was so angry with you. I often dreamed that you came back for me and I cast you aside. As you can see, I did so well with that plan.” Gildor’s voice was laced with pain and bitterness.

Maglor refused to be kept at bay any longer. Turning over, he took the blond in his arms and held him close. “Meleth, I had made my way back to the elven realms to check on you, but I learned all the elves had left Middle Earth… I did not know what to feel. Happy that you had at last returned to Valinor, sad that I had lost you forever. No matter what I kept telling my head, my heart continued to hope that we would be together. That we are now, is incredible; something I never dared dream.”

Gildor rested his head on Maglor’s strong chest, drawing comfort from the steady beating of his heart. He did not want his lover to think him weak, but he could not deny that Maglor easily undid him still. Lifting his head, he looked into those dark eyes, which had so readily convinced him to disobey his father and follow the dark haired elf anywhere. Their lives together had been short and harsh and Gildor had been young. Could they truly be together now, after so much had occurred in the intervening millennia? For a brief moment, Gildor doubted, and then he was tenderly kissed, and all concerns melted away in that moment.

~~*~~

Doron looked up when he heard the hastily cleared throat. Trudging into camp were four ellyn, bedraggled and weary. “Captain, they fared no better, it would seem.” Faron looked up and it was as his lieutenant had spoken. Straightening, he moved to meet them.

“Sir, that swamp is… there must be an enchantment on it. We were forewarned and took extra precautions.”

Cannith interrupted. “Sir, even though Medlion speaks hastily, he speaks true. A powerful enchantment is the only thing to explain our ending up back here when we were continuing on, into the heart of the place.”

Doron had moved to Faron’s side and met the captain’s gaze before the he spoke. “Do not fear that you will be disciplined for this. Obviously, it is out of our control. Lieutenant, gather everyone. We must put our plan into action.”

Doron stuttered at first. “But, but, Sir… we only just thought of it. It hasn’t been completely vetted yet.”

Faron sighed. He did not want to explain what was now required of them all, but it had to be done. He prayed that the Valar would smile on them and they would find the lord and lady before it was too late.

~~*~~

Sídhiel stretched languidly and arose from the bed. Looking around, she wondered what had awakened her, when the scent of roasted meat wafted to her nose.

Her stomach rumbled and the half-elf realized it had been far too long since she had an appetite. These past few days that she had been in Estë’s garden had restored her greatly. Feeling more confident and positive than she had in some time, Sídhiel greeted the afternoon with a smile.

The roasted meat and vegetables were succulent and Sídhiel found she ate more than she had in a long time. Once she finished the meal, she straightened up the small kitchen and washed the dishes. The sheer normalcy of the act allowed her mind to wander and soon she found herself thinking, and she began to miss her family. Afterwards she wandered through the gardens, enjoying the beauty and serenity. No one was around and the warmth of Anor combined with a full stomach conspired to relax her. She finally sank to the ground by the stream and lazily trailed her fingers in the water, her mind drifting and her eyes staring off to the horizon.

Across the garden, while talking to Estë, Irmo noticed the half-elf and asked, “Why is she still here?”

“She has not yet expressed a desire to leave and you bade her to stay as long as she liked.” Estë reached up and tenderly smoothed the furrows from her husband’s brow. “What vexes you so, seron vell?”

“Maglor and Gildor. They are not bonding. I have tightened the fog about Gildor’s recent memories, but he is still not giving completely of himself. And, I fear that if they do not bind, Maglor will not return with him to Elvenhome.”

“But why is it so important for Maglor to return? You have yet to explain your scheme to me, vuin nín.”

Irmo grabbed his wife playfully, and lightly kissed her. “I have not, nor will I. You are too soft hearted, melethril, and might try to interfere.” As his kisses grew more ardent, he smiled as Estë melted in his arms.

Estë dearly loved her spouse, but at times, he was exasperating. “I? Interfere?” She was unable to refrain from smiling as Irmo nibbled her neck. “Stop that! You are just trying to distract me and nothing more. Tell me of your plan and I may be able to help.”

From the base of her neck, Irmo gave a muffled response, “Yes, I am most definitely trying to distract you… as you are distracting me.” He rubbed his arousal against her hip. “I desire you. Can we talk about the child later?” He bit her lightly on the neck, then soothed it with his tongue. As he continued up her neck and along her chin to lightly nuzzle her ear, he looked into clear green eyes. “I love you, my only.”

Estë gasped as a smooth hand moved inside her gown to cup her breast and thumb her nipple. “Aí, meleth nín, you will undo me.”

Irmo chuckled lightly as he rolled her nipple in his fingers. “That _was_ the intent.”

“Come away then. We can worry about Sídhiel later.” Estë turned to her husband, and gave him a deep, plundering kiss, thoroughly enjoying his reaction. She took his hand and the pair vanished.

~~*~~

Soon the small band of elves were seated around the fire, chatting amicably. There was an undercurrent of unease in the conversations, as all wondered what they were to do if the swamp itself seemed to be allied against them, but none openly expressed their concerns. Finally, Faron stood and held up his hand to get everyone’s attention. After all were quiet, he began by explaining the oath he had sworn to Lord Gildor. The captain’s own unease with their agreement was clear in his voice, but none could deny that Gildor had needed the reassurance that his lady would be safe if anything happened to him. Before he even finished the rest there were angry shouts, for none liked the idea that their search time was limited. All of the elves in the party had become fiercely loyal to their lord and lady and hated the idea that they might be forced to leave without them.

Doron jumped to his captain’s defense. “Silence! Stop this nonsense! None of us like the oath, but we would not be here at all if he had not agreed to this. Hold your tongues and listen to all of it!” 

Faron had a grim expression, but his eyes smiled at Doron. He spoke firmly when he began to explain their plan. “We will split up. Eight will take the north route around the swamp and eight will take the south route. Four will stay here, in the hope that the lord and lady will make their own way out. The rendezvous point will be on the far side of the forest in two weeks. Hopefully, a path through the swamp can be found from another point of egress. We have a single cycle of the moon to find them before we must quit this place and take ourselves to Dol Amroth.”

After many questions and much clarification, the parties were selected and all was made ready to leave at first light. The entire party was subdued and quiet. None wanted to contemplate what would happen if they were unable to find their lord and lady in the short time they had left to them.

~~*~~

Sídhiel was unaware of the scrutiny by the two Vala as she strolled in the muted light of Ithil. The washed out colors of the garden stood in marked contrast to the bold, riotous display by Anor’s light. She found the silvery greys soothing and the tones suited her mood well. Sídhiel was no longer desperately pained by what Lord Irmo asked of her. For now, she was hopeful and her pain was as muted as the colors of Estë’s garden at night.

Lord Irmo glared at the half-elf and turned to his wife. “You said you would send her home. It has been long enough, seron vell. Return the child to Middle Earth. I do not like her lingering here.”

“But, meleth nín, you bade her stay as long as she desired. She seems at peace here.”

“I care not. While she remains here in Lórien, their guards are continuing to search. For the moment, all the glamours remain in place, but they are not strong and will not last long. Sídhiel must return and have them call off their hunt. Gildor cannot be found until they have bonded.” Irmo’s tone was cold and firm. He had a duty to perform and would do whatever it took to meet that commitment.

Estë recognized the set of her husband’s jaw and his tone all too well. He would not be dissuaded, so she would ‘comply’. “Aye, milord. I will tend to her needs this night and return her on the morrow. Soon your worries will be lessened.” As she lightly caressed his smooth cheek, her eyes smiled at her husband, her only one. She did love him, but that did not mean that she always agreed with his tactics. If she achieved the ends he desired, but through her own means, no harm would be done. “Go. Rest. I shall take care of everything.” Standing up on tiptoes, she kissed his lips. He grabbed her arms and kissed her back firmly.

“Aye. I do find myself needing to rest. Come to bed soon.” Lord Irmo released her and vanished.

Estë quietly walked to Sídhiel and tenderly placed a hand upon the half-elf’s shoulder. “Child?”

Sídhiel started and swiftly turned to meet concerned green eyes. “Oh, my Lady, it is you.” As her heart slowly returned to its normal cadence, she smiled sheepishly. “You startled me. I guess I was lost in my thoughts.”

“No need to apologize, but come and sit with me. We must talk.” The Vala led the half-elf by the elbow to a stone bench beside the stream, where both sat.

Ithil’s light gleamed upon the slowly moving waters of the stream and Sídhiel stared as though mesmerized. She had been thinking deeply and had not yet completely shaken her reverie. Her slightly glazed eyes looked at the Vala as she said, “Before we talk, I want to thank you, my Lady. You have been most generous with me. I know it was not required and I am deeply grateful. Now, what did we need to speak of?”

Estë watched the half-elf carefully. She was amused by the slightly dazed expression on her face. The gardens of Lórien were healing to battered fëar, but the magic was powerful and too much of it would turn normally vibrant elves into listless dreamers. “First, I am pleased you are better. Your color is good and you appear strong and whole. You must return to Middle Earth. It is time.”

“But… but…” Sídhiel protested. The idea terrified her. She was unsure if she could find Gildor, and if she did, how would she get him away from Maglor? “I am not yet ready. There are other things I want to do while I am here!”

“You are well past ready. If you stay longer you will lose your strength and determination.” Estë chuckled, as she recognized a delaying tactic. “Whatever else could you want to do whilst in my gardens? They are not vast. You have explored their entirety.”

A thought from her earlier musings came in answer. “I want to see my adas.” She blurted it out and continued on, heedless of the Vala’s astonishment. “I miss them and want to know how they fare.” Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Sídhiel lifted her chin and stared into Estë’s eyes. “Please?”

“Oh, child. You know not what you ask…” Estë’s tone was sorrowful as looked into hopeful blue eyes and could not refuse. “I will grant you this, but only if you agree to return. You must.”

Sídhiel’s voice was soft and quivered slightly. “Aye. I will return… I am scared though. What if I cannot remind him who I am? What if I do, but he still wants Maglor?”

Estë cupped the half-elf’s cheek and met her eyes. “Do you love him still?” Slowly, Sídhiel nodded. The Vala then went on. “So, how do you expect to get him back if you will not fight for him? You cannot fight from here.”

A strong determination flooded Sídhiel as she realized the Vala was right. She had to return or Gildor was certainly lost to her. A fire was lit in her eyes as she looked up at Estë. “Very well. When do we leave?”

Estë smiled, her plan was coming to fruition. She stood and held her hand out to Sídhiel. “Come along then, we have to get you ready.”

~~*~~

Sídhiel stood in stunned confusion. Three complete sets of the dark silk Haradrim leggings that she had specially made for her, as well as creamy linen under shirts and dark over tunics, were laid out on the small bed in the cottage. In addition, there was a new pair of boots and a new pack. Her knives and their sheaths were carefully laid out next to the pack. “Oh, my Lady, this is most generous of you. I do not know how to express my gratitude.”

Estë smiled brightly and waved her hands at the items. “I am pleased you like them; we can not have you wandering through a swamp in a cotton shift, now can we? There is one other thing that I must give you…”

Sídhiel caught something in the Vala’s tone and her eyes shifted up from the bed and her knives, to Estë. “More? You have already been most generous…”

The Vala reached out her hand and lightly pulled Sídhiel’s up. “This.” She pointed at Sídhiel’s index finger which proudly bore Gildor’s binding ring upon it. “You will need to tread carefully. Gildor does not remember you exist. Wearing the same ring as he, might be too much, too soon.” The Vala slipped the ring off Sídhiel’s finger and slid it onto a delicate mithril chain. “Lift your hair child, and I shall clasp this chain so that you will always feel the ring next to your heart.”

The half-elf’s gut clenched as the binding ring was removed. It had not been away from her skin from the moment Gildor slid it onto her finger at their marriage ceremony. Sídhiel tried, but she could not contain a sob as it left her. Even the feeling of it pressing against her chest did not ease the ache its loss from her finger caused. She looked up at the Vala, her eyes wet with tears. “I apologize. I know you speak true and are only trying to aid me.”

“Hush, child. You have nothing to apologize for. I understand how difficult this is for you. But soon, it will all be behind you. Sleep now. I will awaken you shortly before dawn.”

Before the Vala could leave, Sídhiel grabbed her arm. “My adas? I will see them?”

Estë turned and pressed tousled curls away from the half-elf’s cheeks. “Aye. First thing in the morning, just as I promised. Now rest. You will need all your strength for when you return.” The Vala lightly kissed Sídhiel’s head, turned away and left the little cottage.

Sídhiel packed her gifts and set out the clothes she would wear, before drifting through the cottage and blowing out all the candles, one by one. Once all the flames were extinguished, the cottage was awash in Ithil’s light. It made the cottage warm and inviting and Sídhiel realized how truly exhausted she was. As soon as she laid her head upon the pillow, she was fast asleep.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Iavas – autumn  
> Eryn Vorn – (dark forest) forest by the sea in western Minhiriath  
> meleth – love  
> seron vell – beloved  
> vuin nín – dear one  
> melethril – lover (female)  
> meleth nín – my love  
> Ithil – moon  
> Anor – sun  
> fëar – souls  
> adas – fathers


	5. Requests fulfilled, searches begun, and destinations found…

_Iavas, Edge of Eryn Vorn, 141 F.A._

The dark before the dawn came swiftly, but Sídhiel was awake and dressed even before Estë’s arrival. The Peredhel was most excited to see her adas and know that they were well, so she did not delay. The Vala smiled at her eagerness. “Shall we be off, then?” After an answering nod, both vanished from the little cottage, soon to arrive on a wind swept beach, Anor’s first rays peeking over the eastern horizon.

Sídhiel breathed deeply, the air crisp and tinged with something indefinable, a scent she did not recognize, even for all her years spent by the sea. She was anticipating seeing her adas and could not stay still, continually pacing from the water’s edge to the large stone outcropping, her eyes always turned inland, seeking.

Soon she heard far off splashing and in the dim light of dawn, she could just make out two horses riding towards her. Sídhiel turned to Estë and asked, “That is them, is it not? They will be here soon!” Her voice betrayed her excitement.

“Aye, child, they will be here soon; but know that they will have no sense of you. You are not here to them. Do you understand?”

Sídhiel nodded, but never took her eyes off the rapidly nearing horses. It felt as though she had not seen Erestor or Glorfindel in an entire lifetime and she needed reassurance that they were well. She still felt guilty for breaking her promise and not sailing with the twins, but she could never have left Gildor.

Erestor rode up on Naurion, both rider and mount’s black hair flowing behind them in the wind. Sídhiel gasped as her ada dismounted and walked right through her to the large flat stone and threw himself down upon it, laughing breathlessly. Only a moment later, Glorfindel rode up, he and Asfaloth closely mimicking Erestor and Naurion’s actions. Once the horses were free of their riders they frolicked in the waves and sand.

Sídhiel stood watching, awestruck by seeing them once again. The love between the elves sparkled around them, as though a tangible thing. They were smiling brightly and laughing, their joy infectious, and Sídhiel found herself smiling fondly at them. Anor finally broke completely free of the horizon and sent blinding rays across the water to warm their faces. She watched as they both turned and stilled, their joy no less obvious, but a quiet longing shone from their faces. Sídhiel sat down behind them, wanting to be near, to soak up their warmth and their presence, etching it in her memory to tide her over until she could be with them in reality.

Glorfindel slung his arm over Erestor’s shoulder and pulled him close. “Sídhiel will come; you have the dream to reassure you that it is so. We will be a family, all together, once again.”

Erestor answered, his voice soft, “I have no doubt of that, but I worry for her. I wish I knew for certain that she is well and happy.” The half-elf wanted to hug her adas, to let them know that she was well and would come to them as soon as she was able, but they did not know she was there, so she could not. She ached at the hurt she caused those she loved the most. The tears streamed down her face as she looked to the Vala and choked out the words, “I want to leave now.”

Estë wrapped an arm about Sídhiel’s shoulder. “Come away then.”

~~*~~

The two sated elves lay in the warm bed, their bare flesh pressed close to keep away the chill air in the cottage, because neither wanted to rise and stoke up the fire in the hearth that had died away to embers. The lassitude from their lovemaking lingered, but neither slept, their minds awash in memories and questions. Finally, Maglor broke the comfortable silence with a teasing question, “So, pen valthen nín, since I have endured your wicked interrogation most amiably, will you now answer some of my questions?”

Gildor laughed at that. He rolled over on top of his lover, pressing him down into the bed. “Nay, melethron, I am not yet done with you. Your answers were not fulsome enough.” His eyes smiled mischievously, but then he gasped as Maglor twisted and flipped them both over, reversing their previous positions, and holding the blond’s hands above his head.

“You think not, eh?” Flint grey eyes sparkled in the dim light and Maglor leaned down, lightly kissing his lover. “It is only fair I know of your life after we parted, as I revealed mine. Tell me of Lindon and the twins.” Maglor regretted the circumstances of their abduction, but he had cared for Elros and Elrond and wished to know how they had fared.

Gildor had to reveal Elros’ choice and how badly Elrond had taken it. He had been worried that the Peredhel would fade from grief at the time, but only much later learned that Elros made his younger brother swear that he would live and find his place in the world. Maglor was saddened that the elder half-elf was no longer of this world, but he was proud of all Elrond had accomplished. 

“And what of you, meleth nín? What was your life like in the intervening millennia?” So much time had passed since they were last together and it was clear to Maglor that Gildor was no longer the smitten youth that simply followed where the son of Fëanor led. The love and desire was still there, but Maglor sensed something so much more and needed to know.

“There is so very much and yet so little, in truth, to tell. Thanks to Elrond, I was accepted in Lindon and even Gil-galad grew to trust me. He was a shrewd king and a good leader, who knew that he needed to be aware of everything that went on with his people, no matter how far flung. There were a group of us that court life did not particularly suit, so we began traveling. Most were minstrels and performers, a few others such as myself were there to listen and gather information for the king.” Gildor had been happy with the Wandering Company, but he was also lonely, and had been glad of the opportunity to roam, secretly hoping that he would hear news of Maglor, but it had never happened.

“Later, after the fall of Eregion, I went with Elrond and helped him begin Imladris. You should see it! A beautiful, hidden haven that became my refuge when the world and grief became too much. I gained family there…” Gildor’s voice was filled with peace when he spoke of Imladris and the people there.

“You married?” Maglor tried to keep the question teasing, but he was worried by the idea of Gildor having a family, for he had not failed to notice the golden ring on his lover’s index finger.

“Married? I? Nay. Erestor who was orphaned by the destruction in Eregion became my dearest friend. He was the only one who ever knew of you, that is how close we were. Elrond was there, and others. It was home, more than I had ever experienced in my life. Even though I was often away, I was coming home when I rode into that valley.” Gildor was wistful for the loss of Imladris. He knew when Elrond sailed, that his valley home would gradually disappear. A frown crossed his face at that moment, for Gildor felt that Elrond had already sailed, but the wanderer did not remember that occurring. He shook his head to clear his thoughts, but his brow remained furrowed.

“Meleth? Are you unwell?” Maglor was concerned and reached to tenderly smooth Gildor’s brow.

“Nay, I am fine… just my thoughts seem… muddied.” The blond stared intently into his lover’s eyes, reading the concern and love in them. Gildor was warmed by the emotions, feeling secure and content.

Maglor shifted to his back and pulled Gildor close to him, holding the blond tightly to his chest, reveling in their closeness. “So, will you tell me how you found me? Did you travel here alone?” He was rubbing soothing circles on his lover’s back, the movement calming and reassuring for them both.

“Alone? Nay. I came… with…” Gildor’s words trailed off as his confusion from a moment before paled in comparison to what he was now feeling. “I must be tired, meleth, for I feel that I came with a party, but I cannot say that I recall that.”

“Hush, then. Sleep. It is late. We have plenty of time for words.” Maglor pulled the blankets over them and kissed the golden head as he shifted to hold Gildor more comfortably throughout the night.

~~*~~

As Anor rose, the elves were readying for departure. Faron was staying with three others to meet the lord and lady, if they returned. Doron led the party venturing north, while Cannith led the party taking the southern path. All were subdued and quiet, each with his own thoughts, all fearing they did not have enough time for an adequate search.

As the horses were being saddled, Faron stopped beside Doron and his mount. “May I have a word with you before you depart?”

Doron looked up from where he had been checking his horse’s saddle blanket. “Of course, mellon nín.”

“Walk with me for moment.” Faron’s voice did not betray his anxiety, but it was unduly quiet. As both ellyn walked to the shoreline to gaze out over the great western sea, their thoughts were disturbed, each wondering if they could reveal their feelings. Finally, Faron broke the silence. He turned to Doron and put his hand on the younger elf’s shoulder. “I need to tell you something before you go. There are words that I should have spoken before now, but I feel the urgency to say them most keenly at this moment.” Faron’s light brown eyes looked into his lieutenant’s grey ones as he continued. “Doron, I care for you, more deeply than simply as a friend. Please stay safe and come back to me.”

Doron’s heart leapt at finally hearing the words that he had thought impossible. His joy gave him great strength, and he leaned in and pressed his lips lightly against the ones that he had dreamt of for so long. Suddenly, instead of leading the kiss, the younger elf felt himself pulled tightly against Faron, the captain’s arm wrapped about his waist and a hand upon his neck. His mouth was plundered and he moaned at the long pent up feelings that swamped him. Finally, Faron pulled away, both ellyn panting and eyes darkened with desire. “I will come back to you, for we have unfinished business,” Doron replied with a bright smile. He began to walk away, but his hand was held and pressed against the captain’s lips. “See that you do, for I will be dreaming of the night that you return to me.”

Faron watched as Doron and his group rode off into the northern reaches. His heart was heavy as he worried that he had waited too long to act.

~~*~~

Suddenly Sídhiel found herself back in the swamp, in the exact place she was before, by the fallen log. The first thing she noticed was that it was later in the day than it had been in Valinor; from Anor’s position it seemed to be late morning instead of just past dawn. Thinking about that, she guessed that it made sense, for Valinor was somewhere west of where she was now. She had a hard time comprehending how far the Vala had sent her in the blink of an eye.

Sídhiel glanced around quickly to make sure she was alone and safe, before she exclaimed out loud, “Oh, thank you ever so much! Could you not at least have dropped me off closer to my goal?” Huffing in annoyance, she shouldered her pack and resolutely marched into the swamp, hoping this time that the path would be obvious.

After what felt like eons of trudging through the muck and mire and heavy foliage, but was in reality no more than an hour, Sídhiel stopped to rest upon a fallen log. Groaning, she realized that she was back at the exact same log, yet again. Slowly, she slumped down, and pulled her knees to her chin. She would not cry. She could do this.

Sídhiel dropped her pack to the ground and dug through it for some waybread and water. Determined to make it to Maglor’s place before nightfall, she needed to regain her composure and formulate a plan. After a few bites of lembas and some water, she felt better. She laid the lembas on the log and closed her eyes to concentrate and clear her mind. Perhaps the animal that she had sensed earlier, would still be nearby and amenable to helping her.

As she eased down upon the ground, next to the log, Sídhiel began the exercises to calm her emotions and clear her mind. Beginning with her hair, she pulled it back and swept it up off her neck, helping her to cool in the thick, humid air. The air brushed against the half-elf’s neck giving her a slight relief and she mused about how stifling the swamp was. It was mid-Iavas, but this place so near the sea, seemed to trap the heat in, as though the dense foliage and overhanging branches were thick, woolen blankets, hanging onto Anor’s every ray of light and heat.

Once she reached the necessary depth of peace, Sídhiel began to probe with her mind, reaching for an intelligence in the forest. Having remembered that she had done this before, she aimed for her own sliver of energy, hoping it was still attached to the creature from before, and had not dissipated. She took her time, wanting to find help, without being too depleted to avail herself of it. Suddenly, a dim glow caught her attention and she aimed in that direction, it was her energy! That it was still out there, and had not dimmed, gave her renewed hope. Targeting the spark, she spiraled a thin, web-like line of energy from the creature to herself. She would easily be able to follow the trail now.

Though she had been careful, Sídhiel was still tired from the effort and energy she had expended, but she would not let herself sleep. She was too worried about not finding her way if it became dark. After more water and lembas, the half-elf decided that she was as rested as could be under the circumstances. She stood, shouldered her pack, and sought to follow the thin line of energy with her internal senses, while insuring that she did not lose track of a viable path through the swamp.

Though she had a destination and a, ‘bread crumb’ trail, it still took two hours before Sídhiel managed to find the creature she had pinned her hopes on. When she realized that the stand of saw palmetto, a scant few feet away from her, contained the lair of a female black panther with cubs, she stopped in her tracks and slowly backed away. Sídhiel had used her gift upon wild animals before, but it was never a sure outcome and discretion was most definitely a necessity when faced with a mother.

Carefully she dropped to her knees, her eyes never leaving the large yellow ones staring at her without blinking. Slowly, she reached out with her mind and sent soothing emotions and thoughts to the panther, hoping that her distance was far enough that the great cat would be receptive. It took much convincing and pleading and effort, but ultimately the panther agreed to help Sídhiel.

The panther did know of another, ‘two legs’ in the area and his den was not far from their location. Sídhiel followed closely, once the great cat shot off into the swamp, cursing to herself because the panther was not always aware how tall the half-elf was. This caused many stops and backtracking when Sídhiel could not pass through the same path as the great cat. It seemed but a short time, when finally, she scented smoke on the air and was encouraged, for it meant they were close to her destination.

The black panther padding silently before her glanced back and conveyed its growing unease. Sensing an increasing nervousness in the great cat, Sídhiel stopped and knelt on the ground, ensuring that she was at eye level to it . Understanding that the cat’s concern stemmed from the nearness of the other, ‘two legs’ as well as the distance from her cubs, Sídhiel met the large yellow eyes and expressed her deep appreciation for its aid, as she released it to return to her family. Immediately, the cat was gone in a blur of black.

Standing and adjusting her pack, Sídhiel again tested her link with Gildor, but sighed at encountering the same wall, blocking her as before. Well, I will find what I find, when I arrive. Continuing on, the Peredhel realized that the panther had provided a distraction for her, and now she could not stop imagining what her mate had been doing during the past week. As she neared the clearing, she tried to keep her anxiety from overwhelming her emotions, but was unable to contain her joy at finally reaching not only her goal, but also completely solid ground.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Iavas – autumn  
> Eryn Vorn – (dark forest) forest by the sea in western Minhiriath  
> Anor – sun  
> pen valthen nín – my golden one  
> melethron – lover (male)  
> meleth nín – my love


	6. Mind games, heart pains, and decisions made…

_Iavas, Edge of Eryn Vorn, 141 F.A._

Sídhiel collapsed to her knees, leaned over and literally kissed the ground. Upon hearing a sword being drawn, she carefully tilted her head up and met dark, flint grey, eyes. The ellon towering over her was quite awe inspiring and caused her to gasp in surprise. From her admittedly poor vantage point, he was surprisingly tall and thinner than she had expected. Dark auburn hair framed strong features, an aquiline nose, pale lips drawn into a thin line, and a strong jaw and cheek bones, which swept up to lightly pointed ears. The clothes he wore were rough and careworn.

Refusing to be intimidated, Sídhiel opened her arms, turned her palms upward, and began to stand while ensuring that she never broke eye contact. His sword was mere inches from her neck and she did not desire to end up in the Halls of Waiting simply because of a stupid misunderstanding. Once completely upright, she bowed, and said in her best, diplomatic voice, “Híren, do I have the honor of meeting Maglor Fëanorion?”

“I have been called that at one point in my life. Who are you, human?” he growled. “And what are you doing here?”

Even though the sword tip never wavered, Sídhiel would not be cowed. But, ever the diplomat, she also knew when to ease up on the defiance. She smiled, dipping her head in deference, and began sweetly. “I am not solely human. I am Peredhel, of a Noldo father. My name is Sídhiel. I mean you no harm, my lord, truly. Besides, as you can see, I am unarmed.”

“Such honeyed words, yet the fire remains in your eyes.” Maglor lowered the sword, but loomed closer. “You evade my questions. Do you truly know who I am and what I am capable of?” As his words brushed past Sídhiel’s ear, she trembled. His voice was deep and rich, like dark chocolate, wrapping around her in its velvety smoothness, but containing a strong undercurrent of danger.

“I know you, Híren. Better than you might imagine.” She lifted her chin, and as their eyes locked, a shiver raced up her spine. He stood so near, they were almost touching; she took a breath and tried to step back.

Before she could move away, she was seized around the waist and pulled roughly against him. Maglor quickly sheathed his sword and removed two of the hidden daggers from underneath her tunic. She trembled as his hands roamed over her body, but quickly realized that she must submit. “Only two? Why am I certain that you are more armed than that.” He twirled her around to face the cabin, but did not release her from his grip. “Walk forward, slowly.”

When they were but ten paces from the hut, the door opened, and Gildor stood there. He was shirtless, barefoot, and his hair was unbound; he looked glorious! Sídhiel stopped, causing Maglor to roughly bump into her. When her eyes sought light grey ones, she sensed no recognition in them. She refused to believe that he had no memory of her. “Gildor? Mele… dir?” Sídi, you idiot! He cannot remember you as long as he is in Irmo’s thrall.

At her words, Gildor cocked his head, looking upon the scene in confusion. To his knowledge, he had never seen this female before in his life, but she called him “friend”. More confusing still, was that he felt a flash of warmth directed towards her.

“Do you know this female, Gildor? She names you friend.” Maglor’s voiced was soft, but carried a hint of something else.

“Nay, I do not recall seeing this one before, and I am certain I would not have forgotten her,” he smirked.

Sídhiel closed her eyes, her heart failing, for she had hoped that the sight of her would loosen Irmo’s control and rekindle Gildor’s memories. “Gildor? Do you not remember me at all? Sídhiel? Erestor’s iell? Please think!” The golden ellon looked increasingly puzzled, but shook his head.

The grip on her arm tightened, reminding her that she was not safe. Soft words brushed past her ear, making her body clench. “So, at least two lies from those sweet lips. I think you are far more dangerous than you would like me to believe.” Maglor forced her back around to meet his dark eyes. “Strip. Your lies convince me to take nothing for granted with you.”

Trembling, Sídhiel swallowed, but her mind could find no way out. Taking a deep, steadying breath, she slowly began to unlace her tunic. “Speed it up. This is no show.”

Maglor’s words were deep, dark and menacing. He watched her hungrily as her over tunic was lightly dropped to the ground. The linen shirt she wore was opaque, but he could see slight bulges along her shoulder blades. “Remove everything.” As she reached up to unlace the shirt, the dark elf hastily grabbed it and pulled it from her dark leggings. Sídhiel barely got the neck open far enough that it slid freely over her head, when he pulled it up and tangled her arms in it above her head. As he held her arms in the air with one hand, the son of Fëanor took his free one and grabbed both daggers that rested in their small sheaths attached on her back. “Clever sheaths, amazing that your over tunic concealed them so completely.”

Using one of her daggers, the dark elf swiftly cut the beige linen that she had bound her breasts with, thus baring her completely. Sídhiel gasped and shivered, she had not been in such a vulnerable and precarious position in a long time, her body would not cooperate with her attempts to be still. As he pulled the rent cloths from her torso, his eyes quickly scanned her firm breasts, trim waist, and hard muscle. He leaned in and murmured, “You are like no elleth I have ever seen, but from my experience you are not fully human, either. At least one truth in your words. For that, you may have your arms free to remove the rest.”

Watching Maglor undress this female, should have had Gildor seething with jealousy. He never liked to share anything of his lover’s, even glances, but this display was arousing and he found that most puzzling.

Bringing her hands down, she quickly felt for the mithril chain Estë had given her. The ring was dangling down her back so she pulled it forward. Seeing the golden ring, Maglor lifted it with the tip of a dagger to examine it. Sídhiel could not let him do that. She hastily pulled it away and secured a slight cut in the process. “This is no weapon. You shall not have it,” she hissed, sucking her cut finger into her mouth, glaring up into flint grey eyes.

Surprised by the vehemence of her reaction, Maglor pulled back slightly. “Keep your bauble, but finish this.” He waved the dagger toward her leggings.

Licking her lips, she untied the fabric belt of her pants. Maglor watched, fascinated, as she slowly unwrapped each leg of its dark silk covering. As she loosened the ties, he saw a glint of metal, and realized how the flowing material hid openings through which she could access yet more steel. Stopping her, he dropped to one knee and reached through the openings on each leg, to pull away four more daggers, but not before lightly caressing the soft skin; he enjoyed feeling the muscles twitch under his touch. “As I suspected, and you claimed to be unarmed?” His tone was silky and rich, Sídhiel felt the words caress her. Closing her eyes, she felt his hands reach for her ankles, and her last two weapons. She was truly defenseless now.

Standing up, Maglor’s next words came from behind her, and brushed past her ear, “Remove the leggings completely. You will be naked before me.” As his words sent shock waves racing down her spine, her eyes flew open and met Gildor’s. He was watching them and seemed to be aroused by the display. Gods! Get a hold of yourself, you idiot! This is no seduction. Maglor is an expert at interrogation with mind games and you are failing miserably. The flail was so much easier to take. Again, Sídhiel closed her eyes to block out the sight of Gildor staring hungrily at her, but not with the love that normally shone from his eyes. Composing herself, she quickly stripped off her soft suede boots and leggings. Never opening her eyes, she stood there, waiting.

“Open your eyes and look at me.” It was a command, of that there could be no doubt, so she complied. “We can do this pleasantly or not. The choice is yours. Do you understand?” She nodded, unable to speak as she was pinned by that dark gaze. “Who are you?”

She managed to answer without her voice quavering, “As I said, I am Sídhiel Erestoriel, from Imladris.” Trying to avoid either set of eyes upon her, she failed, and saw Gildor’s eyes narrow in disbelief, but luckily, Maglor saw the truth of her words.

“Why are you here?” Maglor watched, as she clenched her fists at her sides, obviously trying to keep her emotions in check.

“When my… friend disappeared from our camp, I followed him.” She paused at referring to Gildor and omitted the entire truth of her search.

Large hands grabbed her upper arms painfully, causing her to gasp. “You lie. Gildor has been here for over a week, yet you have just arrived.”

Trembling, as she was now truly terrified, Sídhiel tried to explain. “I speak the truth! I followed shortly after he left camp and became… lost. I would never stop searching for him!” Her eyes flashed at the truth of her words.

Sensing that there was much more than she was revealing, Maglor switched tactics, his intent was to keep her off balance and reeling. He released her arms and began to stroke her skin slowly, trying to soothe the shivering body as he circled around her. His words were soft, barely audible, menace cloaked in sensuality. “You think I could believe that you wandered, lost in this swamp for a week, yet your clothes are barely dirty and in remarkably good shape? You will explain yourself more fully.” He tangled his hands in her hair, quickly pulling it completely loose, but kept one hand wrapped in the freed locks as he resumed stroking her bare flesh.

The slow stroking did not ease her trembling, instead the touches were leaving a fiery trail and igniting her desire. She hoped her voice did not quiver as she answered, “I did not say that I spent the entire time in the swamp, Híren, only that I became lost. As I said before, I would never give up on Gildor.” Indigo blue eyes stared up into unfathomable grey, and Sídhiel worried that the dark elf could read into her very soul.

Maglor was most perceptive; with an almost preternatural ability to read the truth of someone’s heart when he chose to. He easily read great love for Gildor in the female’s eyes. Why did he not remember her, then? Ever curious when confronted with a mystery, the son of Fëanor determined that the only way to solve this puzzle was for Sídhiel to remain with them for a time. “I am not done with you, but this we will continue later. What needs have you?”

“A bath… some food… a place to rest. Please?” She barely choked out the words. Sídhiel was mentally and physically drained, and so confused by the dark elf’s attentions, that she would have willingly dropped to her knees and begged him, if necessary.

A slight smile curved his lips, “We can meet those needs easily. There is a hot spring behind the cabin. It is quite pleasant.” With that, he released her from his gaze and let her pull away, but when she stooped to pick up her clothes and pack, he stopped her. “Nay, you may not have your things just yet. I shall bring you what you need.”

Dipping her head to acknowledge his words, she gathered her dignity about her as best she could, and walked toward the rear of the cottage.

Two sets of eyes hungrily watched her pert bottom as she walked away. Gildor was immediately in Maglor’s arms after she rounded the corner. He was inflamed and needed his lover. “Are you certain it is safe to leave her free to roam?”

Maglor could not miss the lust radiating from the blond. “She is no threat to us, in fact, there is much concern for you in her eyes.”

“I had forgotten how you toy with prisoners.” Gildor leaned in and kissed the dark elf passionately. 

“I seem to recall you did not like to watch me work.” 

“I hated to watch your seductions and mind games. You were mine.” Gildor was still possessive of his lover and it was quite obvious in his voice.

“Nay, not were, meleth, are. I am yours and ever have been.” Pulling the blond close, lips dueled as they both gave into the simmering desire the scene had created for them. As they kissed, Maglor untied Gildor’s leggings and pushed them down to his knees. He followed down the lean body with his tongue, stopping briefly at the pink nubs, to lick and tease them, causing his lover to moan wantonly. Their desire was raging, so the dark elf dropped to his knees and quickly engulfed the heated arousal.

After unlacing his own leggings, Maglor lifted two fingers to Gildor’s lips, and they were hungrily sucked in and quickly enveloped in wetness. Taking his own shaft in one hand, he pressed a finger of the other at the puckered opening and pushed in, never ceasing attending to the hardness in his mouth. The golden ellon groaned and shifted to bare himself further and ease access for those fingers. Both ellyn rapidly became undone, as Gildor was stroked inside and out and his release flowed down Maglor’s throat, causing the dark elf to climax with him.

The blond dropped to his knees to be held in a strong embrace, both ellyn struggling to regain their breath. Dark eyes delighted in the sated form in his arms, as he pushed wayward strands of hair behind a delicate ear tip. “You did not dislike watching me work today, melethron. Why?”

Heavy lidded eyes opened, and Gildor smirked in reply. “Ah, in truth, I believe I would like to join you, as you sample that one. She reacted quite strongly to your presence and my watching.”

Chuckling, Maglor stood and reached for the blond. “Maybe we can arrange something, for I found her quite enticing as well.”

~~*~~

Sídhiel was shivering, more from Maglor’s attention than from the gradually cooling air, but she managed to hold her head high as she walked away. Once she made her way to the hot spring, she stepped carefully on the stone steps and gradually sank into the deep pool, sighing in pleasure from the heat. Her muscles fluttered rapidly as the tension fled. Sídi, you are such a fool! You can never hope to compete with that one! You should have begged to stay in Lórien.

Hot tears coursed down Sídhiel’s cheeks as she gave up all pretense of being strong. She was alone and there was no one who would see her cry. Lost in her thoughts, the elleth missed Gildor’s soft steps as he walked to the pool. She jumped when he cleared his throat to call her back to the present. “Gildor!” She ducked her head to hide her tears and the raw emotion that was clearly written on her face.

Having never borne the brunt of Maglor’s questioning, Gildor could only imagine the emotional turmoil the half-elf was in, so he was unsurprised by her tears, but the glimpse of her eyes, filled with such longing and anguish, caused him more than a moment of pain for her. “I brought soaps and towels.” His words hung in the air awkwardly. He was yet unsure why he had insisted on bringing these things himself.

Before the blond could walk away, Sídhiel gathered her courage to look at him. Still seeing no recognition in his eyes, she slumped down, and quietly spoke before turning away, “Hannon le, meldir.”

~~*~~

Sídhiel stepped out of the water and shivered at the temperature difference. Drying quickly, she realized that Gildor had not returned her clothes, nor the pack with her fresh ones. Fortunately, he had left two lanterns hanging on hooks, one by the pool and the other by a large fallen tree that had been carved into a settee. It was quite smooth and comfortable, calling her to rest. Sitting down, she drew her knees up to her chin and hugged her legs to her chest. Even though she was wrapped in the towel, the wet hair hanging down her back chilled her, but she would not get up until she had decided upon a course of action.

He is lost to me. The Valar have decreed it be so. Why did I fight it? I am such a fool, I could not believe it, so I had to see it with my own eyes. I hope he will be happy.

Just as Sídhiel clamped down on her anguish and hardened her resolve to leave by Anor’s first light, she was startled by a light touch on her shoulder. Maglor was standing behind her holding a well-worn dark grey woolen tunic out to her. “Am I to wear your clothes? What possible threat could mine pose?”

As Sídhiel stood, she allowed the towel to fall away and quickly tossed the tunic over her head. While she struggled to keep the overlarge tunic from slipping off one shoulder or the other, Maglor finally answered her question. “I find that having nothing familiar to cling to, tends to loosen tongues.” 

“You are very arrogant, even for a Noldo lord.” Clenching her jaw to keep her rampant tongue from causing her more trouble, she attempted to adjust the tunic to provide more coverage, but her actions were more sensual than concealing, and each glimpse of fair skin heated Maglor’s blood. That she was defiant and still proud, aroused him further. Trying to gain control of his raging emotions, the dark elf sat down and stretched out nonchalantly.

“That is what you shall wear. Stop fiddling with it and sit down. If you wish anything further, you will tell me your tale in full.” Where earlier his voice was dark and seductive, at this moment he was cold and dispassionate, almost as though he had no care to hear her answer.

Laughing bitterly, she answered. “My story is too fanciful; you will not believe the truth of it. So what then? Will you leave me out here in the cold? To starve? I am not completely helpless. I can make my way, even if you deny me my clothes and weapons. Why should I answer you?”

“You will answer me with the truth. I will know it, for what it is. Once done, then you can come into the cottage and share in the warmth of our fire and the bounty of our larder. What do you have to hide?” As Maglor’s eyes darkened further, Sídhiel realized with resignation that her words would change nothing, except give her food and warmth to strengthen her for the morrow.

She began her tale at the Havens as she and Gildor watched the last ship leave Middle Earth for Valinor. Her distress at breaking the promise she had made to her adas was palpable. She explained the small band’s purpose and how she doubted they would ever locate the very elf sitting beside her, but her resolve to stand next to her mate shone through her words. She continued until Maglor had heard her tale of the past week, including her detour through Lórien. In the retelling, Sídhiel finally believed Gildor was lost to her, the last spark of hope that it could be otherwise, snuffed out.

“And so, here I am.” She gripped the golden ring hanging from her neck and ripped it off, the fine mithril chain biting into her skin as its clasp broke. “Here. Take it. This is the final proof. Gildor wears its mate.” As the powerful emotions faded and cold reality sunk in, she was left numb. “Please… I am so tired, and thirsty… Have I earned food and warmth?” Not waiting for an answer, Sídhiel stood, and swayed on her feet. The travails of the day had taken their toll.

Maglor scooped her up in his arms and walked toward the cottage. “Aye, my lady, you have earned much this eve. I doubt you not.” His words caressed her, no longer dark or cold, but warm and soothing as he hummed quietly to her. With what consciousness that remained, Sídhiel felt truly cared for and snuggled into the dark elf’s neck and body heat.

By the time Maglor walked into the cottage, his burden was asleep, so he laid her down on pillows before the fire and covered her with a warm throw. As the warm body drew away, Sídhiel awoke and struggled to get up. “Shhhh. Relax. You will be warmer here.” Shivering slightly at the lost warmth, she snuggled under the blanket and tried to open her eyes, but they were so heavy, she could not, and soon she was fast asleep.

When Maglor had walked into the hut carrying the female, Gildor recognized the expression in those dark eyes. She had spoken truthfully, but her story had greatly disturbed his lover. Gildor set out some cheese, dried meats, fruit and a light wine, while Maglor made her comfortable before the fire. Even though it had been millennia since he had tended to his lover after a session like this, the blond still knew what he would need.

Maglor tugged at his braids as he walked to the table where Gildor had already set out food and was being obviously solicitous of him. Needing comfort, though guilt that his happiness was bought at Sídhiel’s expense ate at him, he gathered Gildor in his arms and just rested his head on his lover’s shoulder, hiding his face in the golden hair.

“Was it so bad? What did she say that disturbs you so?” Gildor rubbed soothing circles on Maglor’s back, with no intention of moving from the dark elf’s embrace.

“She has been cruelly used. I doubt that she has the strength to return to her friends and take ship.” Maglor tried to voice his concern at her tale, without giving away anything to Gildor. “It is not fair and it angers me that the Valar would toy with her in this manner.”

Schooling his thoughts and features, for Maglor could not reveal anything to Gildor, he pulled away. “Hannon le for the care, meleth. I believe I need to eat, hunger is causing my thoughts to darken.” He sat down and poured the wine into two glasses and chewed on a sliver of apple.

Gildor sat and took a sip of the wine, his eyes never leaving Maglor’s face. There was an undercurrent here and the blond could feel the tension, but could not surmise its cause. “Should we not awaken her to eat?”

“Nay, I know that she needs food, but fear that sleep is an equally rare commodity for her of late. Let her have her rest while we dine.” Maglor’s heart was laden with guilt, but he was also equally happy to be looking into his beloved’s eyes. The dichotomy of his emotions was radiating from him, and he tried to suppress them, not wanting to concern Gildor.

As they ate, Gildor’s nearness calmed Maglor and his anger gradually muted. He was still displeased at what had occurred, but he also knew that he was most grateful to be the beneficiary of the Valar’s largesse. Wondering if Gildor would ever regain his memory of Sídhiel, Maglor again looked at the ring that he wore, almost as though he was not even aware it circled his finger. “Meleth, may I look at your ring? It seems familiar somehow.”

Gildor hesitated for a brief instant, having no memory of receiving the ring was disconcerting, but the sheer nakedness he felt when he removed it was far worse. He handed it to Maglor and watched as his lover examined it.

Maglor took the ring and noted Gildor’s discomfort when it left his hand. So it still has much meaning for you even if you know not why. I hope that is a good thing. After looking at the ring and reading the inscription, there could be no doubt. He was holding the mate to this ring in his pocket. He had believed Sídhiel, for few could successfully lie to him, but this was incontrovertible proof. Maglor was left wondering what to do with this information. Gildor’s bonded mate was lying asleep, before his hearth, and yet, Gildor had no memory of her. Carefully he placed the ring back on Gildor’s finger. “I was mistaken. I have not seen it before, but it is a well-crafted ring. I should take her some food now.” He sighed, and grasped his lover’s hand. “I think she would be more comfortable if you stayed over here.” He suggested this to give him a chance to further discuss Gildor with Sídhiel.

After setting a tray down beside the hearth, Maglor leaned down and began to gently coax Sídhiel to wake, using soft words and tenderly caressing her cheek. As he watched awareness return and her eyes open, he was surprised at the gamut of emotions he felt when he gazed into those dark blue eyes, the intensity almost leaving him breathless. “I have food, as promised. Are you steady enough to sit up?”

Waking to flint grey eyes and a caress on her cheek, left Sídhiel slightly disoriented, but she quickly remembered who was looking at her and where she was. “Thank you, I am better.” She sat up and took the offered tray, the light wine being the first thing she reached for. After a few sips and some apple slices and cheese, she felt warm and safe, but not better, not truly. Her emotions were muted, almost as though they belonged to another. Her resignation to her loss seemed to dull everything, dimming not only her emotions but also her sight as the world now appeared grey.

Maglor caught the lie but said nothing. This was more than awkward and his own emotions were interfering with his usual ability to think and reason dispassionately. He spoke softly for he did not want Gildor to hear. “I think you should stay. We need to give Gildor a chance to shake off Irmo’s control…” And then what?

“And then what?” Sídhiel was not angry, but could not bear more false hope. It was too heartbreaking, and she knew she was not strong enough to withstand further.

Her words echoed his own and he knew he had no answer. To give up Gildor once again? What would that do to the blond? To himself? “I know not, my lady, but I would like you to stay… to walk that path with us… to wherever it may lead.” Maglor was not used to pleading. He never had and was most uncomfortable doing so now. “Please? If you leave and then he remembers… I fear the hurt it would do him. Please stay?”

She shook her head and then looked into flint grey eyes, swallowing, she answered. “Nay. I cannot. Please do not ask me to be so close without him having a single memory of me. You do not know how much that hurts.” As the tears began to spill over, she looked down and hid her face. “I will leave in the morning. Please, no more words. May I just sleep?” Sídhiel tried to hide her tears and the increasing panic she felt at staying. She did not believe she could take seeing Gildor in Maglor’s arms.

Maglor nodded and after touching her shoulder lightly, he offered his hand to aid her to stand. After she arose, he pulled her against him in a tight embrace. Soft lips brushed against her forehead as he whispered to her. “I am deeply sorry, Sídhiel. I wish for things to end differently than this, believe me.”

Sídhiel had not realized how much she needed to be held, needed strong arms holding her and offering comfort. Maglor’s warm embrace almost completely undid her and she had to bury her face in his chest to keep from sobbing aloud. She had thought she was through with her tears, but the affectionate gesture proved her very wrong. After a few moments, she regained her composure and looked up at him. “I truly wish you were someone I could despise, but that is not the case at all.” Her lips curled very slightly upwards. “I know that you love him as much as I, so he will be happy. That is all that matters.” Pulling away, she turned. “Now where is this bed that you have offered?”

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Iavas – autumn  
> Eryn Vorn – (dark forest) forest by the sea in western Minhiriath  
> híren – my lord  
> meldir – my friend  
> iell – daughter  
> meleth – love  
> ellon, ellyn – male elf, male elves  
> melethron – lover (male)  
> elleth – female elf  
> Anor – sun  
> hannon le – I thank you  
> Ithil – moon


	7. Recovery, reunions, and departures…

_Iavas, Edge of Eryn Vorn, 141 F.A._

 

When Maglor showed her to the bedroom, she glanced around the cozy room. There was no door, so that the heat from the fire could reach the recesses of the room. As they moved, small motes of dust swirled in the air, glinting in Ithil’s beams from the skylight. She was surprised at the bed which nearly filled the entire room; expecting it to be small, it was instead, large, and covered with a warm woolen comforter in dark, jeweled colors.

Frowning, she turned to Maglor, “I should not take your bed… the furs before the fire will suffice.” 

“Sídhiel, just rest. We will be comfortable. If you truly plan to leave in the morning, then you need as much rest as you can get. Here you will sleep well.” The dark elf embraced her once more and kissed her forehead. He pulled the comforter down and gently pushed her toward the bed. “Goodnight, my lady.”

Tugging once again at the rough tunic, Sídhiel decided that it would be warmer than nothing, so she climbed into the bed and pulled the coverings up to her chin. The softness of the sheets astonished her as she sunk into the comfortable bed, a sigh of delight escaping her lips. When she turned on her side and breathed in, a familiar scent wafted over her. Gildor had rested his head upon this pillow, for it smelled of him. The scent was warm and comforting; she burrowed her face into the pillow, wrapping its familiarity around her and was soon asleep.

~~*~~

Faron shook his head, only stopping his pacing to survey their small camp with briefly swept glances. He had always been a patient elf, but now waiting had grown painful. The memory of Doron, his grey eyes laughing, danced in front of the captain’s eyes. An acute longing was his ever present companion now that he had acknowledged his feelings and desires. Unfortunately for Faron, the object of those affections was far removed from him. It was the most uncomfortable he ever recalled being. At least I now understand the Lord and Lady better. No wonder they would argue but could never stray far from each other.

~~*~~

Two warm bodies snuggled together before the fire, one lost in thought, the other wanting to know why he was being ignored. Finally Gildor could take it no longer and moved on top of Maglor, pressing his lover down into the furs. In surprise, flint grey eyes flashed up to meet light grey. “Why are you not touching me, or talking to me? Have I angered you? Please tell me what is wrong. I do not like silence between us.”

Maglor moved to turn them both onto their sides, his strong arms wrapped around Gildor, wanting to reassure his lover. “Pen valthen nín, you have done nothing… I was only thinking of Sídhiel. She insists upon leaving in the morning. I am simply unsure if that is wise.” The dark elf leaned forward and brushed his lips tenderly against Gildor’s.

Gildor’s response was immediate as he deepened the kiss and bucked against the dark elf’s hips. He was already aroused and wanted more, so much more, and did not understand why he could not have it. It had only been a week, his long denied desire had no chance to be sated and the flames that burned hot within him whenever Maglor was near, had not cooled. “Let us not speak of her any longer… I want you… need you.” The blond tangled his hands in dark hair and pulled his lover close, nipping at the full bottom lip, teasing it with his tongue.

As much as he wanted to honor Sídhiel’s pain, his own desires were not easily denied, especially with an exuberant Gildor giving ideas to his nether regions. He groaned as he felt the strength of the blond’s need rubbing against him, and felt himself respond in kind. Before either knew what was happening, Maglor had stripped Gildor’s shirt from him and was caressing and rubbing the suddenly chilled flesh. There was nothing more sensuous than the blond’s movements and vocalizations when he was being touched, licked, and nibbled by the dark elf. Both ellyn were quickly engulfed by their unquenchable desire.

~~*~~

The shadows surrounded Sídhiel and there was no way forward that was not bleak and grey. With each step she took, the light behind her grew dimmer, her heart quailed and she stopped. As she turned, the visions behind her changed from warm spring days spent laughing with her family in Imladris, to long weeks traveling with Gildor, his teasing laughter warming her heart, until the last vision was of Gildor standing upon the shores of Middle-earth waving, as she drifted away from him in a white ship.

Her heart shattered at leaving him and she took a step backward, further into the darkness, and fell into the void. Starting, Sídhiel awoke and sat up. Her heart was pounding and she was panting lightly. Once she recalled her environs, she realized it had been a dream, nothing more. She pulled her knees to her chest and rested her cheek upon them. Sleep would not be forthcoming again and she resigned herself to waiting until daybreak, so that she could leave this place and walk away from her heart forever.

The half-elf’s eyes fluttered and closed, and she found herself drifting, her thoughts were a jumble and nothing coherent was coalescing in her mind. Soon soft sounds whispered past her ears and into her consciousness. Recognizing the noises, she felt drawn to them and threw back the covers. Before she knew what she was doing, she was standing in the doorway, watching as Maglor worshiped Gildor’s lithe form. As she stood, enrapt by the scene before her, she was transfixed, for the dark elf was adoring in his attentions to the blond.

Sídhiel stared, having never seen anything so sensual and compelling before. It was beautiful, as the dark hair slid along the plains and valleys of Gildor’s torso while Maglor was laving attention there. Watching the blond squirm and hearing him moan set her aflame, until he arched his back and cried out as his arousal was enveloped. To keep from calling attention to herself, she brought a fist to her mouth. Panting lightly, she leaned against the doorframe trying to stay still, but it grew harder to stay away as the scene became more intense. Finally, sudden realization dawned on the half-elf. She would never again have the opportunity to be with Gildor. That thought saw her begin to move forward until she was at Maglor’s side.

Maglor opened the vial and poured some oil into his palm. Though they had made love frequently, he still would not harm Gildor. His lover was too precious and everything felt so fragile that he did not wish to simply rut around in blind passion; he would make love to the blond. As he pressed a finger inside the clenching passage, he felt a touch on his shoulder. Startled, he turned and his eyes met deep blue, almost black ones, glinting in the firelight. Sídhiel knelt there, her face open, revealing all of her vulnerability and desire.

She whispered words that were barely audible, but their intent was clear. “Maglor, may I join you? One final time?” The second son of Fëanor was stuck by the need and anguish in those words. From the first time he met those eyes of deepest blue, Maglor had been intrigued. After questioning her and then learning her full tale, he felt guilt, yes, but he also felt protective, concerned, caring, and no small measure of desire for this Peredhel. It had happened so fast, but on reflection, the same had occurred with Gildor. The idea of her joining them set sparks down his spine. The question now was what did Gildor want and would he agree?

The blond had been lost amidst a sea of pleasure as his body was played like a fine instrument, Maglor well knowing each place that drove him mad with need. He was relaxed and ready as he began to be prepared until suddenly those long fingers stopped moving. Opening his eyes, he was surprised to see Sídhiel next to Maglor. She still wore naught but the dark elf’s old tunic, which had slipped off one shoulder. Her tousled hair revealed that she had just moved from the bed and her reverie. The flush creeping across her face had an obvious cause and it excited Gildor that he could be the reason. As she licked her lips, her heavy lidded eyes turned and met his gaze. In that moment, though no words were spoken, he knew what she wanted and he desired it as well.

Maglor leaned in to kiss Sídhiel, knowing that Gildor was watching and remembering their earlier conversation about her. Her lips were soft and sweet. She was pliant as she leant into him. He broke the kiss, which left his lips tingling. Moving swiftly, he bent down and claimed the blond’s lips, offering the taste of Sídhiel to his lover. He knew Gildor wanted her, he could read it in the smoldering depths of his eyes, but he asked anyway, “She wishes to join us, to feel you move within her, while I move within you… do you desire this?” The blond gasped and he hardened further, if that was possible. The thought was incredibly arousing and he could not form a coherent reply.

Gildor nodded, his eyes moving from flint grey up to deepest blue. Something in those eyes resonated within him and he wanted to touch her and kiss those full lips. Gesturing to Sídhiel, he opened his arms and she complied after tossing off the tunic and baring herself to hungry eyes. Before she could move to straddle Gildor’s torso, Maglor wrapped his arms around her and pulled her hard against him. He plundered her mouth and thrilled at the moans that escaped her lips. When she pulled away, she was panting lightly, her skin flushed, her eyes dark.

When Maglor released her, she turned and straddled the blond’s torso. Strong arms clasped around her waist and pulled her down. As their lips met, she sighed and eagerly opened, allowing Gildor to taste all of her, his tongue chasing after hers. She was in heaven once again, her mate’s arms encircling her while he was kissing her. The half-elf melted against Gildor, who began to writhe as Maglor began to prepare him once again.

Gildor moaned into Sídhiel’s mouth when Maglor’s stroking fingers left him. The half-elf then felt warm, calloused hands tugging on her arse and she realized the dark elf’s intent. Breaking the kiss, she moved back and with Maglor’s aid, she slid effortlessly down upon the blond. A worshipful gasp left her lips simultaneously with Gildor’s. She was home.

As she arched up and slid back down, Gildor moaned. Maglor had slid into him in one slow stroke. The blond arched into the duel sensations, of being filled and filling. Sídhiel’s warm, moist depths welcomed him and he thrust upward and back. Soon, the trio found a rhythm and the sound of flesh upon flesh echoed through the small cottage. Maglor was ever the attentive and caring lover and he knew when Gildor was close. Instead of speeding his thrusts, he slowed and made them long and deliberate as he pulled Sídhiel up against him. The changed angle tightened the half-elf around the blond and his clenching threatened to cause the dark elf to spend too soon. Holding tight to his own release, Maglor reached down and began to stroke Sídhiel, feeling where Gildor entered her, the slide in and out matching his own thrusts. Their tongues tangled in a breath stealing kiss, and the blond writhed as he watched. His head spun as he felt fingers stroke him, as he was thrusting inside Sídhiel. All the sensations were becoming too intense and he felt his release begin to coil low in his groin.

As she was stroked and fondled, Sídhiel could hold off her orgasm no longer. The peak neared, her whole body tightened and then she soared, carrying Gildor, who brought Maglor with him. The three crested, and for a brief instant Gildor and Sídhiel both experienced intense pain as they were shattered and remade, the ecstasy of their newly formed bond erasing all memory of that pain.

The three elves’ fëar streaked through the heavens, bound as one, twining and twirling around each other amongst the stars. When they returned to themselves, Sídhiel collapsed, sated and boneless atop Gildor’s chest. Strong arms reached to hold her tightly while Maglor removed himself and toppled to the blond’s side, his leg thrown possessively over the others’. Once some capability for thought returned, she realized where she was and what had just happened. Sídhiel tried to move away, but Maglor caught and held her. The intense joy she felt mere moments ago only served to remind her more acutely of what she was walking away from on the morrow.

Tears slid down her cheeks as sobs threaten to burst from her lips. She struggled to get away, but was held fast. The dark elf tugged her to him and pressed her close, allowing her to hide her face. Maglor was once again shielding her within his embrace, letting her cry as she needed. She felt herself drifting away, nothing tethering her to this place. Worried, she tried to gather her composure, but she could not. She felt as though she was becoming insubstantial and would soon fade into nothingness. Her eyes grew heavy and she rested her head against Maglor’s strong chest, the thrum of his heart soothing. As she drifted to sleep, lulled there by desperate need, she heard her name.

The intensity of his orgasm left Gildor momentarily stunned. He was certain he felt a brief moment of pleasure so intense that it felt like pain, as though he was being torn apart, reshaped, and reformed, but he shook his head. That was impossible. That would mean that he was bound to Maglor… and Sídhiel. That name lingered in his head, reverberating, echoing until there was nothing except those three syllables. Gildor’s eyes flew open, and he bolted up. Sídhiel! Oh, Gods! His lover, his friend, his mate was leaving!

“Sídhiel?” With a gentle touch he tried to get the sobbing half-elf’s attention. He remembered all of it now, but how had he come to have no memory of the one who held his heart? “Please look at me.”

Maglor watched the emotions flash across Gildor’s face. The blond remembered. He smiled at that, but he worried for what would happen now. Would he be alone once again?

~~*~~

The soft call which contained so much emotion, registered, and Sídhiel turned her tear streaked face to Gildor. The expression there caused her to gasp aloud. He remembered! When he opened his arms, Maglor released her and she threw herself at her mate, her heart flying.

Gildor clasped her tightly and buried his face in her neck breathing in her scent, which now mingled with his own and Maglor’s, creating a heady concoction that had his head spinning. He whispered soothing words into the riotous curls and rubbed his hands down her sides and back. Maglor pressed himself into Sídhiel’s side and wrapped his arms about them both, desperate to keep the connection that he had just gained.

Gildor had questions and wanted answers, but Sídhiel’s response was quiet. “Nay… morning… talk… hold me.” She was happier than she had been in far too long. The toll of two decades of travel and searching, and then the last week’s painful reality had completely exhausted her. Now she could not resist sleep any longer; her body was sated and warm and she was encircled by strong arms. Reverie quickly swamped her and she was lost to dreamless sleep.

Maglor reached to push silken golden strands from Gildor’s forehead. Their eyes met and their love and devotion shone brightly. “Shhh. We have time now, meleth. Sleep.” As their arms entwined, sleep quickly claimed them both and they joined Sídhiel in reverie.

Lord Irmo stood over the trio and smiled, the first genuine smile he had shown in a few weeks. He had been so angry with Estë when he learned what she had done, but looking down on the bonded mates, he knew he would have to accept that her way had worked where his had failed. He sighed. He did not relish returning and listening to her crow about this, even though they would probably end up in bed enjoying each other throughout the night.

~~*~~

Sídhiel awoke and took a moment to remember where she was. As her eyes fixed upon Gildor’s sleeping visage, a huge smile lit her face and joy bubbled up inside her almost to overflowing. She lifted a hand to her mouth to keep from waking her lovers. But she could not refrain from caressing the blond’s face. At the soft touches, light grey eyes returned to awareness and blinked to clear them. A bright smile met the sleepy eyes and Gildor covered her hand on his face with his own, leaning into the gentle touch.

As he began to speak, Sídhiel pressed a finger to his lips and shook her head as she whispered, “Shhh… do not wake Maglor.” When Gildor kissed her finger, she had to kiss him back. His pink lips were soft and inviting and after thinking she would not ever have this chance again, she was not going to waste time looking back.

Marveling at how differently things had turned out than she imagined just a few short hours ago, Sídhiel snuggled into Gildor’s side and felt Maglor shift against her. She was warm, but not only physically, she was complete. The half-elf breathed deeply and began to speak, wanting to convey to Gildor so many emotions. “I believe I understand now why you could not forget Maglor. He is so much more than I could ever have imagined.”

Gildor turned his head and looked at the two dark haired bodies. He wondered how this had happened, but he did not dare voice his concerns. He feared that he would wake and be alone, having lost them both. It was a deep-seated insecurity and the one that had kept him guarding his heart for so long. He feared being abandoned. Shifting, he turned on his side and pulled Sídhiel close while reaching for Maglor. “How is this even possible, Sídi?”

Meeting his eyes, she softly answered, “You belonged to him and he to you. It was meant to be.”

“You know of what I speak. How are we three possible?”

“I know not, meleth nîn. I only wish for you to be happy, that he makes you thus, fills my heart. That I can share in it with you and have found another, was beyond my imagining.” Her eyes sparkling, she quirked her lips and teased, “Should we move to the bed for another round?”

Gildor nuzzled her neck and laughed lightly, “I thought you were sleep deprived, meleth.”

She giggled, “I think my deprivation from you is far more severe.” Unable to contain a large yawn, she covered her mouth before continuing, “But rest does seem to be calling most insistently. Just hold me?”

“With pleasure, my sweet.”

~~*~~

Sídhiel sat leaning against a tree at the edge of the clearing; the chill of the morning was slowly giving way to Anor’s heat as she watched her two lovers spar. Though her sword fighting skills were non-existent and the long knives that others used were beyond her ability, she had learned much from watching her Adar as he trained new recruits. Knowing Gildor’s skill with his sword caused her a few moments of anxiety when they began, until Maglor demonstrated that he was equally, if not more, capable.

It was an intense session and Sídhiel found herself breathless with fear more than a time or two. The skill of the two ellyn was extraordinary, as neither managed to skewer or behead the other time and time again. They were well matched and their grace and power was exhilarating to watch. When they both finally relented and the two shirtless elves walked to her side, she quickly stood to offer each some cool water. Her heart was pounding in her chest and it no longer did so from fear, but from the vision of the two of them, both sweaty and aroused.

Throughout his long years, Maglor had indulged his physical needs on occasion, but usually with females, because most human men did not entice him. Now that he had Gildor again and Sídhiel as well, he found himself insatiable and was often powerless from his desire. The long sparring session had left him completely mindless with lust, and Sídhiel’s flushed cheeks and darkened eyes had him near to losing control. Suddenly Maglor had her pinned to a tree, pressing his muscled body against hers as he whispered huskily in her ear, “You obviously like what you see… what is it you want?” His need was strong and it took much restraint to keep from simply throwing one or both of his lovers to the clearing floor and ravishing them.

Gildor felt the passion as well and pressed his body against Maglor’s back while they both waited for her answer. Sídhiel trembled, but not from fear. She took a deep breath and opened her eyes, now dark as night. When she answered, her voice was steady but low, “You...” Her eyes locked briefly with each pair. “Both of you… at once.” If it was possible, the tension in the clearing rose to a fever pitch as Maglor gathered her up in his arms and pivoted into Gildor for a soul searing kiss. Sídhiel was between them and wrapped her arms about their necks as they plundered each others’ mouths. She leaned up and joined the kiss, demanding entry. It was not gentle, nor tender, but served to stoke the fires in them to new levels, and all were panting when they finally pulled away.

Before she realized what was happening, Sídhiel was on the bed having her clothes removed as she and Gildor embraced and kissed. What was to come had her shivering with anticipation and need and she was an easy accomplice to her ravishment. As she lifted her hips to allow her leggings to be tugged off, she bumped up against Gildor’s arousal. His groans at the contact made clear that he was as aroused as she. Soon they were naked and she was pressed firmly between two strong bodies, both grinding against her. Their combined heat grew in intensity and soon they were engulfed in flames of passion. She found herself straddling Maglor and sunk gratefully down upon him. Both moaned in contentment as she leaned in for another breathless kiss.

“So good… so sweet,” he murmured against her lips and thrust lightly up into the wet heat.

She felt cool liquid pour down her cleft and shivered. Maglor felt her tremble and ran strong hands along her sides and back, to soothe and calm. “Shhh… breathe with me, meleth. Relax.”

Sídhiel felt herself calming and she easily relaxed as her lips met Maglor’s. She closed her eyes and felt Gildor preparing her. Breathing with Maglor and staying calm, she was soon ready and felt warm hands upon her hips. As she was breached, she gasped and her eyes flew open to meet dark grey ones filled with love. As Gildor slowly filled her, Maglor shifted and all three moaned aloud in complete wonder. When both shafts filling her touched, they groaned, “Gods!”

Her head spun and soon Gildor was thrusting into her, meeting Maglor’s every upward push. She was rocking on her knees with each stroke, groaning at the sensory overload. Intense sensations exploded through her when Gildor reached around and began to touch her, stroking in rhythm until they were a single unit moving together, a concert of moans, sighs, groans, and movement. Sídhiel felt filled beyond imagining and the upward climb had many peaks, each one short and intense, but never a complete fall, as each served to propel her higher until finally her entire body tensed and she shattered, shouting her completion as every muscle clamped down and she fell, insensate for a moment. Her orgasm was so intense, that coupled with the tightening of her body, both ellyn came at the same exact moment.

Every nerve ending screamed, it was so sensitive and Sídhiel twitched and tried to pull away, groaning, “Too much… too much.” Though both Maglor and Gildor were sated and boneless, they understood and carefully withdrew, still pulling a long moan from her lips. As she collapsed back onto the bed, Sídhiel felt a spark within, but sleep claimed her almost instantly and she thought no more of it.

Neither ellon wished to move, so they rearranged the tangle of limbs and hair and snuggled down, Maglor’s strong arms embracing all, as they too, drifted into reverie.

~~*~~

Faron paced the encampment down to shore. The waiting was harder than anything he had done before. Two weeks of idle time had come as an almost unwelcome respite, but the others had taken advantage and enjoyed their time, while he could only think on Doron and worry for him. The horses were allowed to run, while the other elves braved the cool surf and were now lying on the beach drying in the weak autumn sun. The captain smiled at them as he stared into the west. He had never felt the call, and had been more than eager to stay with his Lord and Lady, but as he stood staring, he felt it: the first stirrings of longing. Valinor. The feeling grew and he knew that it would eventually overwhelm him if he fought it. Luckily, they were no more than a year away from departing, no matter what happened. He prayed that their party would leave this place whole.

~~*~~

Sídhiel found herself pleasantly warm and relaxed in the hot spring as she sat on the side of the pool and watched Gildor and Maglor wrestling to see who could dunk who. Her eyes softened and she lifted her face to Anor, allowing it to caress and warm her. Suddenly she stiffened, it had become far too quiet. They were up to something, but she was too late. As she opened her eyes, she was grabbed and tossed into the depths of the pool amid loud laughter.

Spluttering with indignation, she surfaced and glared at her lovers. “You two behave like elflings!” A full pout formed, “I was so comfortable!”

Maglor laughed and swam up behind her, wrapping arms about her while pressing their bodies together tightly, as he whispered sensuously, “No elfling could make you feel as we do, melethron.”

Arching back against the tight embrace, she glared playfully at Gildor but moaned at the look in his eyes and suddenly she was overwhelmed. “Aye, I love you both so much, damn you!” Maglor pulled her head back for a soul searing kiss while her blond lover marked her neck. She was dizzy when they released her, and the world swam as she was crushed between two strong needs when they began devouring each other. Breathless, she did manage to gasp out, “Not here. My back still aches from yesterday.”

The trio were soon on dry land, and though all were dripping and there was a chill in the autumn air, they cared not. Sídhiel was quickly thrown over Maglor’s shoulder as, laughing, they raced for the little cottage.

~~*~~

Cannith sighed. He and Doron had agreed, they would return together. It was no use attempting to gain entry into this place. The enchantment preventing them was too strong. Neither party had any success by the time they had met up on the opposite side of the forest. Though they were both in agreement, it was no less galling to his pride. He may not be a wood elf, but in the time that he had been traveling with this party, he had learned much and allowed himself to feel that he was at least fairly accomplished at wood craft for a Teler, but he had to concede he was defeated by a forest.

Doron had noticed Cannith’s mood, but he was eager to return to Faron and had already dealt with his own sense of failure. He knew the lady would never be upset with them and hated to disappoint the lord, but in his heart he knew they were together, so he was less concerned than he would have been otherwise. “All will be well, mellon nín, so do not fear. Let us return with the greatest of haste and maybe the Lord and Lady will be there waiting with Faron.”

~~*~~

As Sídhiel shouldered her pack, she turned back to gaze at the auburn haired ellon still standing in the doorway of the little hut; the cottage that had come to mean so much to her in such a brief time. Taking a deep steadying breath, she marshaled her emotions and began to follow Gildor, but she found she could not leave. Not yet.

Throwing the pack on the ground, and oblivious to Gildor’s shout, she ran back to Maglor and embraced him. “I will not beg you again, but there is something you must know before we leave.” Dark eyes looked down at her and the barest hint of a smile quirked his pale lips.

“What argument can you now give that I have not already heard countless times, from not only your lips, but from Gildor’s as well? Speak meleth nín, for your lord grows impatient to take his leave.”

Although he tried to hide it, she caught the flash of pain that was quickly hidden behind a perfectly impassive mask. “You must read me…” anticipating his refusal, she continued quickly. “Please? There is no other way for you to believe what I say… you will understand when you do.”

Even though he was sending Sídhiel away, Maglor could still refuse her nothing, so he relented to her request, even as he doubted the wisdom of his action. Leaning down, his forehead touched hers, and it became clear. Two fëar shared her body. She carried a son! No, not just a son, his son. Overcome with emotion, he staggered back and grabbed the door for support.

“What will I tell him, my lord? That you cared more for your pride than you cared for him? Stay here unto the ending of Arda for all I care.” Anger and bitterness crept into her voice. “But know this, you will have a son who deserves to know his father.” She turned away, unable to keep the tears from coming. “I know the pain of never knowing my parents. Would you do that to your son?” Strong arms reached for her, but she shrugged them off. “I want nothing more from you in this place… It is your choice alone. Do as you will. But you will always have a place with us.”

Quickly walking away, she reached to grab her pack as she passed it, and made her way to Gildor’s side. Sídhiel wiped the tears away and squared her shoulders; as she looked into light grey eyes filled with the same pain she felt, she knew they would manage to survive this, together.

The End... or is it?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is dedicated to the lovely hareatic. She knows why!
> 
> Translations:  
> Iavas – autumn  
> Eryn Vorn – (dark forest) forest by the sea in western Minhiriath  
> Ithil – moon  
> pen valthen nín – my golden one  
> ellon, ellyn – male elf, male elves  
> fëa, fëar -- soul, souls  
> meleth – love  
> meleth nín – my love  
> Anor – sun  
> Adar – father  
> melethron – lover (male)  
> mellon nín – my friend  
> Teler – sea-faring elf


	8. Endings and new beginnings…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gíl-auron means ‘morning star’ and was found on the Council of Elrond website.
> 
> Rain Elei means Wandering Dreams, fitting for an Elven ship

_Iavas, Edge of Eryn Vorn, 141 F.A._

Doron leaned back against the strong body behind him, both elves silently staring into the setting sun. He sighed loudly before quietly asking, “Must we leave in the morning? Would another day or two, at most, truly break your oath?”

Faron hated this aspect of leadership. He wanted nothing more than to please his newly found love, but he knew that this was a request he could not give in to. Shaking his head as he reached to clasp their hands together, he replied sadly, “Nay, we cannot stay longer. Firith is upon us and we must reach Dol Amroth before Rhîw. I still do not know what we will find when we reach the city so I must plan for difficulties. The entire company is my responsibility now, I must consider their safety.”

“But… none of us are afraid for our lives. You are a capable leader, melethron. We would, every last one of us, give our lives if you but ask it.”

“I have no desire to see that occur. I want all of us, and especially you, to set foot upon the White Shores.” Faron leaned down and kissed his lover’s cheek. “There is also the matter of Lord Gildor. It is what he wished and I would see that honored.”

Doron turned and looked into his lover’s eyes; the worry and responsibility were wearing on him, and the younger ellon felt sorrow that he had added to Faron’s cares. As he brushed a blond strand from the captain’s cheek, he glanced back over his lover’s shoulder at the dark woods and froze, his eyes wide.

Faron caught the expression and turned, marveling at the two figures that slowly emerged from the darkening woods. The Lord and Lady were standing there, the dying sun lighting their tired faces. Doron let out a loud whoop and, forgetting himself, ran to them both and grabbed the lady, hugging her tightly. His cry alerted all of the troop and soon the pair were surrounded by relieved, chattering elves.

~~*~~

Námo glanced over Vairë’s shoulder to spy upon the tapestry that she was weaving. “Damn!”

His wife turned in surprise at his outburst, but before she could ask him what was wrong, he was gone. She glanced at the tapestry and wondered why two elves walking together in a forest would bother her husband so. Shaking her head and realizing that he would tell her only when he was ready to do so, she continued with the weaving, happy that the two in the tapestry were together once again.

As Irmo leaned over to kiss Estë’s lips, he heard a loud growl behind him. “Brother! What are you doing here?” Towering over him, Námo stood glowering darkly. His deep fathomless eyes were glowing with a fire that would have cowed the strongest of the First Born, but did not even cause the Vala Irmo to flinch.

“You swore he was coming, that you had it under control! Now, what am I to tell Manwë?” Námo began to pace as he vented his ire upon his brother.

Confused, Irmo stood, and followed his brother’s footsteps. “What are you going on about? Of course everything is taken care of. Maglor is bound and going to be a father. It will not be long before he can once again play for Manwë. Nienna found his harp and it has been placed in the depths of the library at Dol Amroth. Everything is under control.” The Vala of dreams was actually quite pleased and proud of how well things had turned out, though he still owed his wife much for her part in seeing it to fruition.

Námo stopped, almost causing Irmo to run into him. He turned and looked at them both. “You do not know, then? Maglor did not leave the swamp. He chose to stay behind.”

Estë gasped and stood, shaking her head. “Nay, that is not possible!” But in her heart she knew it was true. She felt her heart break for the half-elf, carrying a child that would never know its father. Her eyes suddenly hardened and her lips set in a grim line. “Enough! I will not let that stubborn, self-absorbed, prideful son of Fëanor ruin this!” She turned to the other two Valar, her eyes flashing. “Have no fear, my lords. Manwë will once again hear Maglor’s voice and harp resounding through his Halls and we will have respite from our Lord’s bad temper.”

As she was about to leave, Irmo placed a hand upon her arm. “Will you not tell us what you plan to do? I find myself curious.”

Estë smiled fondly at her husband and cupped his cheek in her hand. “Worry not, beloved. I have a simple plan and only need a small bit of help from Yavanna. There is nothing you two need do.” With that, she was gone, leaving two very stunned Valar in her wake.

Irmo grinned, “I almost feel sorry for the elf. I know what Estë is like when angered and I do everything I can to keep her from that state. Failing that, I hide.”

Námo nodded, almost gravely, “I have a wife, brother. Believe me; I know of what you speak.”

~~*~~

The troop had met and decided they could still leave in the morning. There was no reason to delay their departure any longer. Gildor searched for Sídhiel to give her the news. He found her sitting on the darkening beach, staring moodily into the gathering night, as the last rays of Anor disappeared below the horizon. Sitting down behind her, he wrapped himself around her and the soft sigh as she leaned into his embrace was his reward. “You have been more than quiet since we left. Besides the obvious, tell me all that is bothering you.”

Sídhiel had never been so glad of the cover of night before. She took a deep breath, knowing that Gildor deserved the complete truth, and blurted it out. “I carry his child… his iôn.”

Gildor froze, his mind blank. He could not truly understand what she had said. “You… what?!?”

The tears slid down her face, her voice was tremulous. “My herbs… in my pack. Estë did not replenish those and I… I forgot.” Turning in his arms, Sídhiel moved up to her knees and wrapped her arms around Gildor’s neck. “Forgive me? I know… I know it was not what we agreed. We planned to wait, but I did not… it was an accident.” Her words rambled as she buried her face into Gildor’s neck, afraid to look at him.

“Shhh.” It took a few moments, but Gildor managed to quiet the half-elf so that he could reflect on her momentous news while he held her, his hands unconsciously running through her curls. He thought on many things and his feelings, but knew that he was not angry. No matter that they had both lost Maglor; they would always have a piece of him near. Gildor leaned back, and as a smile slowly lit his face, he lifted Sídhiel’s chin. “It is sooner than we had planned, but not unwelcome. At least in some manner, he will not truly be lost to us.”

Sídhiel sniffled and wiped at her tears and nose. “You are not angry with me?”

Gildor hugged her tightly. “Nay, I could not be mad at you for this. None of us were thinking clearly and I well know how Maglor can affect one.” A thought crossed his mind, “You told him… when you ran back? He knew this, yet he still would not come?” At Sídhiel’s confirmation, he cursed under his breath, but his ire was not for her. He placed gentle kisses on her tear streaked face. “I love you, and this is all the more reason we must make haste. I will not have our babe born here.” His voice was firm, and she readily agreed, the weight removed from her shoulders as the warmth spread through her. Gildor had said our babe.

~~*~~

As dawn broke in the east, Gildor shook his head and sighed. He could see Sídhiel, and she was no where near ready to depart. Instead she had two horses culled from the group and was efficiently divesting them of packs, saddle, and bridle. “Why are you removing gear from two ready animals when your own horse is not prepared?” Gildor had to ask, though he knew the answer.

Soulful blue eyes gazed up at him, but Sídhiel never stopped working even as she spoke. “You know why. He has no horse and the Falas is far enough even when mounted.” As soon as the first horse was free of all encumbrances she moved to the second and halted momentarily when Gildor’s hand met hers. Their eyes met and together the horse was even more rapidly stripped bare. She smiled at her lover and kissed his nose. “Thank you.”

“Get on with it, then. I want to be off and away soonest.” Gildor stooped and picked up the discarded gear, while Sídhiel concentrated on the tall mare. He watched as their foreheads touched and the half-elf spoke under her breath. Even his acute hearing could not make out the indistinct words. It had been many long years since he learned of Sídhiel’s unique ‘gift’, but it still amazed him to watch her practically conversing with animals. She had tried to explain it, but it was even more foreign to the Noldo than the Wood Elves’ ability to converse with trees.

The last of the extra gear was divided amongst the pack horses and Gildor looked up to see the mare and stallion nuzzle Sídhiel before running together toward the surf. She turned and he was rewarded with a happy smile. He pushed down his melancholy and motioned with his head, only to receive a laugh and have a giggling half-elf run and jump into his arms. “I love you, my brave, handsome lord. This is a beautiful day for travel and I cannot wait to see Dol Amroth once again.” She quickly mounted and then frowned down at him. “Why are you not yet ready to leave?” With a wink, she kneed her mount and shot off, well knowing that Gildor would reward her cheek later.

~~*~~

_Ethuil, Dol Amroth, 142 F.A._

Gildor stood on the deck of the _Rain Elei_ and surveyed the damage from the fierce spring storm. His ship was in far better shape than many of the others, since they had weathered the storm at sea instead of in the harbor. As he looked at the broken wood and torn sails, something finally snapped. He turned to Cannith and commanded, “Enough of this. We leave as soon as all the damage can be repaired. If necessary, we will work day and night.”

The entire crew could feel their lord’s frustration and displeasure, so none were willing to speak up. In truth, the company had begun to feel restless themselves. Though only two of them were Teleri, the rest had learned much in the previous six months from the sailors of Bel Falas and all felt ready for the trip, especially during the upcoming calm summer season. They all recognized that they were simply waiting for the word from their lord.

Gildor’s eyes moved from the deck of the ship to the highest tower of the citadel on the hill. Though the storm was quickly losing fury as it moved further inland the lightning still lit the dark sky behind the tower. Of course, his sharp eyes made out the figure standing unprotected in the blustery wind, her cloak flowing from the receding storm. He sighed aloud, and left the docks to retrieve Sídhiel. She would object to the date of their leaving being set, but he no longer cared. They were well past time to leave and all knew it.

~~*~~

Sídhiel stood and stared at the surrounding lands, contemplating the destruction wrought by the late seasonal storm. The sea roiled as the winds pushed the storm further up the coast and inland. She hoped the roads were still open. Lost in thought, she did not heed the sturdy door opening nor pay any mind to the nearly silent footfalls until strong arms wrapped about her. She smiled and leaned into the warm embrace. “Meleth.”

“It is decided. The Rain Elei cannot survive more of these storms and we cannot weather them all out at sea. We leave as soon as she is repaired.” Gildor felt the tension in her, but merely held her more firmly.

“Nay, we cannot leave… not yet. There is still time.” Her voice carried a hint of desperation.

He buried his face in the auburn curls and sighed. His own hurt affected him deeply. “He is not coming, and we have delayed long enough.” His hands moved to caress her growing abdomen. “The babe must not be born here, we cannot wait any longer.”

Sídhiel knew in her head that he was right, they could take no chances with her pregnancy. If it progressed as though she were human, then she had little more than three months remaining, and none of them knew how long their voyage would take. She sighed hopelessly, and placed her hands over Gildor’s. The baby kicked at that instant and both smiled as they shared in the feeling.

Turning in his embrace she leaned forward to rest her head upon his chest. “Aye, I know. I just had hoped… how long until we must embark?”

Expecting more of an argument, Gildor was momentarily stunned by her easy acquiescence and he was silent until she looked up at him with questioning eyes. “Two, three days at the most. These last few weeks of Ethuil bring such ferocious storms that I had hoped to be gone before now.”

Sídhiel turned and pressed her back to Gildor’s chest while tightly wrapping his arms about her now non-existent waist. “How did you survive it?” The question was tremulous for she did not want to hurt her mate, and she once again marveled at his strength.

Realizing that he would not be leaving shortly, Gildor moved them both to the edge of the tower and leaned his hip against the cool stonework. He shifted Sídhiel in his arms until her head rested upon his shoulder before he answered, “We were at war. My choice was to live and fight or give up and die. There was no time to give into my shattered heart. I had made a mistake that I felt needed to be atoned for, and Eärendil’s children needed to be looked after, so I did. I had no time to look for comfort or solace for myself. I continued in that manner, concentrating on the needs of others and never thinking of my own.”

Pressing his lips against her neck, he murmured, “I was alone, as you are not, but you have as great a duty as I did.” The babe chose that moment to turn a somersault and both smiled at his antics. “We will raise him as our son so he will never lack for a father, and one day, when we are ready, we will have a child together.” In truth, Gildor was hurting deeply once again, but thoughts of the babe eased his pain. It was far worse to have regained and lost his lover, his soul mate, than it would have been to have never set eyes upon Maglor again. He was strong for Sídhiel because he could not bear for her to hurt. Inside though, he seethed at the second son of Fëanor as he had not in millennia.

Gildor always soothed the ache in her heart and put things in perspective. She knew he was hurting even more than she was. She could feel it in him, but she would not say anything of it. Maglor had hurt them both, but his abandonment of Gildor was inexcusable. Finally turning away from the road and staring into the most beautiful face in all of Arda, she smiled up at him, loving Gildor more than ever. “I did not plan for this, but I do believe Estë had intended it all along. We will have a large family, beloved, for what better way to drive my adas mad?”

The wanderer laughed at the image of Erestor chasing after a horde of elflings. It was a bright sound and filled Sídhiel with joy. “All right then. A large family it is. But, for now, could I persuade you to come inside to rest and eat?”

“Nay, there is still much to do. I have found many old scrolls and books in the dim recesses of the library and the archivist has said I could take them since none can read them any longer. Many are in Quenya and I know Ada would greatly desire them. I will see they are packed up and sent to the ship…”

Gildor interrupted, “You need to rest. Have you forgotten that another is dependent upon you?”

Shaking her head, she pressed a finger to his lips. “Do not scold me. I find I cannot sleep without you and the nights are worse if I try than if I keep myself busy.” She smiled, mischievously, “So, if you wish me to rest, you shall have to take me to bed and insure I am so tired out that I must sleep.”

The blond leered at his mate and leaned in, taking her lips and plundering her mouth until she was breathless and weak in the knees. “Shall I carry you there now?”

Panting lightly, and eyes darkening, Sídhiel replied in a breathy whisper, “Please.”

~~*~~

Sídhiel lay there in the gathering dusk, her head resting upon Gildor's chest as she listened to the steady thrum of his heartbeat and breathing. She knew he was not asleep, as she felt his disquiet keenly. They were both uncomfortable with leaving, but neither did they want to stay and chance the babe's birth to Edain midwives. The silence began to overwhelm and Sídhiel’s thoughts began to swirl, musing upon their past, until she could no longer be silent. “When did you know? That he was the one?” Her question hung in the air, no name need be uttered, for Gildor was all too aware who 'he' was.

Sighing, he moved his hand and began to tangle it in messy, auburn waves. “Sídi.” His tone was quiet, almost pleading that he did not wish to discuss _him_.

“Please?” Sídhiel turned to look into soft, grey eyes, her blue ones needful and dark.

Pulling her back against his chest, Gildor began to speak, softly and low, but his voice seemed younger, filled with wonder and carrying no burden of guilt or regret. “The first time I heard him sing...” He smiled at the innocent he had been, so full of youthful exuberance and arrogance. As the half-elf snuggled closer into him, he continued, his eyes distant as he remembered. “I had run away from my chores and duties yet again. I was not the son my father wished for, so often, instead of bothering to argue, I would flee and deal with the consequence of that later. My favorite place was the library, where I would borrow a book and then immerse myself in the tales. But later, when my father learned of my hideout in the library, I would simply flee to the forest. I sparred with non-existent foes and imagined myself a great warrior, savior of all, or I would be a poet, writing sonnets causing all of the court lovelies to swoon at my feet.”

Sídhiel giggled at that image, and Gildor smiled. He marveled that there was no pain in these stories when gifted to his mate. They were simply his past, something he could not change, but he could now look upon them fondly. “One day, while lost in words and meter, I heard singing, and I was mesmerized. Nothing had stirred me as that voice did, so I sought the voice out. I did not find him, not that day, or the next, or the next... Aye, I kept returning, hoping. After a fortnight, I had given up and believed that it was merely a dream, when I heard it again. I was knee high in the stream and turned to begin my search, when the singer stepped from the trees.” He closed his eyes and could still clearly picture that moment. Maglor was never more beautiful, the auburn of his hair shone clearly in the dappled light, his dark grey eyes sparkled, and his lips were formed into a wide smile as he sang, softly. “I was besotted, owned, and lost from that moment on.”

“How old were you?” Sídhiel had often wondered exactly how young Gildor had been when Maglor claimed him.

“Forty-nine. I was almost an entire year from my majority… but I knew that he was the one I wanted. There could be no other, not for me.” He sighed. “Even though it tested me greatly, we waited. Maglor was most patient.” He paused, with a wry smile on his lips. “Well, that was what I thought at the time. I had no idea… Maglor had seen me long before… in the library and at Father’s forge. He had decided that I was to be his before I ever laid eyes on him, so he knew much of me. I was being seduced and had no knowledge that it was occurring.” He shook his head. It still amazed him that the glorious second son of Fëanor had wanted the son of a blacksmith. “I thought choosing him for my majority rites was my idea.”

Smiling, Sídhiel could easily picture that image – Maglor patiently plotting to get what he wanted… Gildor. “So you waited an entire year?” She snorted. “I cannot picture it, meleth. Neither of you are terribly patient when it comes to your physical desires.”

He tightened his arms about Sídhiel, and began to lightly rub his hands over her back. “I never said we were completely chaste… only that I was still a virgin on the night of my majority.”

Shivering from the light, almost teasing touches, Sídhiel began to squirm. “Aíya! Stop that! You are giving me goosebumps.” She wriggled around and twisted until she was able to grasp one of Gildor’s hands, which she brought to her lips. “Why do you not want to talk about this any further?”

“Who said that I no longer wanted to speak on this?”

Sídhiel squirmed around some more and turned to stare into Gildor’s light grey eyes before kissing the corner of his mouth. “You need say nothing for me to feel your reluctance. Do you not trust me?”

Gildor frowned at his mate. “It is not a matter of trust.” He sighed. “That night set my feet upon a path that led to much heartbreak and turmoil. I hate that I hurt my family, but my father would not... could not, understand.” Sídhiel rested her head upon his chest and rubbed her hands along his arms and sides, offering support and comfort. She offered no words, not wanting to interrupt him. “He felt acutely betrayed that night and never forgave me, such that it was easy for him to completely disown me when I sought to follow Maglor.”

Anger at Gildor’s father blossomed and she was unable to stay silent any longer. “That is ridiculous! You were young and in love! Why would he be so harsh to you?”

“It was a long time ago… a different place. Relations between males were uncommon and few were comfortable with them.” He smiled at his mate’s vehemence. Having grown up in the egalitarian society of Imladris, Sídhiel did not take prejudice easily. “My father was a conservative person. He believed strongly in knowing one's place and felt uncomfortable with anything outside his experience. It was one of the reasons we so often clashed.”

Huffing, she laid back with her hands crossed over her chest. “Still does not make it right.”

Gildor smiled at her. “Nay, it does not, but at least now that I shall be raising a son, I better understand my father. I hope to not make the same mistakes, while still keeping my child safe.”

“You never could, my only. It is not in you to be rigid and unforgiving.”

“Sleep now.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and rubbed her swelling abdomen.

Sídhiel snuggled into the strong embrace and closed her eyes. She was tired and needed to rest, but she was glad they had talked somewhat of Gildor’s past. Though there was still so much unsaid, his mood was lighter, less melancholy. If his father still lived, she hoped that he had finally forgiven Gildor. “I love you. I will sleep only if you stay with me.” Her words drifted off as reverie began to claim her.

“I will always stay with you, my only.” Kissing her forehead, he listened to Sídhiel’s breathing slow and even out, but his thoughts were too caught up in the past to allow reverie to so easily claim him.

~~*~~

“My Lord?”

Gildor turned at his first mate’s softly spoken query. “Is there something wrong, Cannith?”

“Nay, but the sun has risen. We should be leaving soon.” Obviously uncomfortable with seeming to question his lord, Cannith’s hands clenched at his sides as he stood awaiting his lord’s command.

After silently studying the Teler, Gildor noticed that there seemed to be more that he wished to say. “Speak up, Cannith. I do not censure anyone for keeping me well informed.”

Sighing, he spoke quietly, “It is… the cargo holds are very full, my lord.” His voice rose, “There is even more this morning. I try to keep up with the inventory, but it is a never ending task, it would seem!” He stopped, uncomfortable with his own outburst, before continuing, more softly. “I would feel more comfortable with less cargo and more rations. I do not know how long the voyage will take.”

Gildor placed his hand upon Cannith’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly, “I trust your judgment. As long as you do not believe the holds are over full, we will be fine.” At that moment, a carriage clattered onto the pier that the Rain Elei was docked against. He chuckled, “And here is our Lady, no doubt with even more cargo.”

Cannith groaned, but waved more elves over to help load the last of the boxes and parcels that Sídhiel had arrived with.

As Sídhiel stepped from the carriage, she turned to someone inside and reached up her hands to take a heavily wrapped package. Her conversation was quiet and then with a short nod, she turned away and began walking up the gangway to the ship. Gildor walked to greet her, unsure how steady she would be on the slightly swaying walkway. Her smile was bright, but her eyes were hooded as she glanced at her mate. “And, what do you have there, meleth? Have you not already emptied the entire library into our cargo hold?” He was teasing, trying to cajole her out of her melancholy.

“This.” She held it out to Gildor as she stepped aboard. “This is something too special for words. It is an Elven harp. It is of exquisite workmanship and in excellent repair for as old as I suspect it of being. The archivist did not even know it was in the bowels of his library, so he easily gave it to me.” Sídhiel was hinting at something, but would speak no more of it.

Gildor smirked, for he knew the archivist and knew how tightly he hoarded all of the items in his care. He would give up nothing easily, but few could withstand the onslaught from Sídhiel when she was determined. “Shall we give this to Faron for packing away then?”

She shook her head. “Nay. It is wrapped in layers of cloth and oilcloth, but I do not want it below.”

Rolling his eyes because Sídhiel considered far too many things too precious to be stored below decks and their cabin, the largest, was already overflowing. “Where do you suggest it be placed, then? There is no more room in our cabin.”

She grinned. “True, but Cannith's cabin has only a few things. He can store it for me.”

Laughing, he agreed. “Fine, but you must ask it of him. I will not.”

Smiling, her mood lighter as only Gildor could manage, she kissed his cheek. “Thank you for humoring me.”

Hugging her tightly to him, he silently acknowledged that they were both humoring each other. The leave taking was painful and neither wanted to mention it, both well knowing that only once they lost sight of land would the reality of their loss sink in.

~~*~~

Sídhiel stood at the prow of the ship, her back to the sea as she stared at the port. She was greatly saddened to be leaving Middle-earth, but she was also excited at the prospect of being reunited with her adas and the others of her family. Everywhere she turned, the ship was awhirl with activity as the time for their leave taking was imminent. She still hoped and silently prayed that a horse would arrive at the last minute, carrying the other piece of her soul.

It is time. Gildor's words reverberated through her. She swallowed and forced herself to turn and look out to sea. She desperately wanted to be strong for her mate but tears threatened. Sídhiel needed arms about her as she felt the ship lurch when the first sail unfurled.

_'Please join me. I need you, beloved.'_

Only a few moments passed before strong arms enveloped her. Closing her eyes, Sídhiel leaned into the embrace and allowed the tears to fall.

_'I am sorry. Forgive me. I meant to be stronger than this.'_

_'Shhh. I am here, we are together, and we will have peace once we are in Aman. Just look to the west and our future, meleth. It shall be full and bright.'_

When Gildor spoke, he was trying to convince himself as much as Sídhiel that they and Maglor were not meant to be together. Their chance at eternity was long past. He tightened his arms about Sídhiel when he felt the sobs shaking her body. The last of the sails unfurled and the Rain Elei began to move quickly out of the harbor, leaving Middle-earth behind. That seemed to be the last straw and he felt Sídhiel collapse.

TBC

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> ada, adar – daddy, father  
> Anor – the sun  
> Ethuil – spring  
> Firith – late autumn  
> Iavas – early autumn  
> iôn – son  
> meleth – love  
> Melethron – lover  
> Rhîw – winter


	9. Into the West…

_Ethuil, Dol Amroth, 142 F.A._

_The last of the sails unfurled and the_ Rain Elei _began to move quickly out of the harbor, leaving Middle-earth behind. That seemed to be the last straw and he felt Sídhiel collapse._

Gildor carried her to their cabin, his own pain buried beneath worry for his mate. Sídhiel had lost few that were dear to her and was unaccustomed to the intense ache. It was never easy, but few were as intimately familiar with the pain of loss as he was. The dim light of the cabin offered peace and solitude where he could finally release his sorrow. He laid her upon the bed and caressed her face. “Sídi, wake up, meleth. You cannot give into the grief. I need you...” His voice trailed off into a harsh whisper as the long denied tears finally came.

Movement from behind caught Gildor's eye and he turned; his eyes widened in astonishment. “What has happened? What is wrong with Sídhiel?” Maglor questioned as he stood there, his brow furrowed with concern, but behaving as though there should be no surprise that he was on the ship.

Furiously, Gildor swiped at his eyes and cheeks, wanting to conceal all evidence of his sorrow, especially from Maglor. “What do you care?” he hissed. “It is not as though you gave a damn for her well being before this moment!” His anger and hurt pulsed through him, and Gildor found he had no words that would not be damning, so instead of starting a row, he stood. Once he had regained his composure, he glanced at Sídhiel and noticed that she was looking up at them with wide eyes from a pale face. “Why do you not ask her yourself? There is nothing I wish to say to you.” He stormed to the door and slammed it behind him.

“Damn you!” Sídhiel was furious, but also ecstatic, and she marveled at the dichotomy of emotions Maglor evoked in her. Struggling to sit up, she glared at the dark-haired elf. He was immediately at her side on the bed aiding her, with a strong arm about her. She tried to move away from him, but he held fast. “Let go! I do not need your help.”

Maglor looked at her with a wistful smile on his face, his head cocked to one side as he looked at her growing abdomen. “May I?” His free hand was poised over her stomach, seemingly uncaring that she was trying to push him away. She nodded, wide blue eyes looked up at him, meeting flint grey. As his hand rested upon her abdomen, the baby chose that moment to move. The smile that lit his face caused a matching one to grace hers. “My iôn?” She nodded again and was surprised by the intensity of emotions as his eyes once again met hers. “I refused to believe. I could not let myself because it would have destroyed me.” Maglor's arm tightened about Sídhiel and she turned into him, tears coursing down her cheeks.

“I never stopped hoping that you would come.” Her words were stuttered through harsh sobs, and she felt tears not her own fall upon her arms. No more words were spoken for awhile as they clung to each other, hurts healing as their bond formed once again. When no more tears fell, Sídhiel felt soft lips press against hers and she easily opened up for her dark-haired lover. The kiss was tender and coaxing. She pulled back and frowned. “Why did you wait so long to come? Gildor had given up all hope.” Her tone became sharp as she acknowledged how badly her mate had been hurt by Maglor yet again. “He did not deserve to be treated that way. So, speak up... explain yourself!”

Maglor well knew that he had hurt both of them, but suspected that Gildor was the worse off of the pair. The long separation had made their reunion all the sweeter, filled with love and blissful memories, thus the parting had been even more painful. That he could have sent his blond lover away yet again… Maglor knew that what he did was practically unforgivable. Sídhiel seemed to forgive him, so he still had hope that Gildor could as well. “When you left, I was in a daze, unable to think of anything clearly. The desolation I felt was overwhelming.” When it seemed he would be interrupted, Maglor placed a finger over Sídhiel's lips to keep her silent. “Then, as I was regaining some semblance of rational thinking, the very forest and swamp around me seemed to go berserk. It was as though the plants themselves wanted rid of me.” Sídhiel smiled to herself. She suspected that Estë had a hand in the plants turning on Maglor, but she said nothing.

Crossing her arms over her chest and frowning at Maglor, Sídhiel seemed quite annoyed with him as she spoke. “So, you had to be forced to come. This was not something that you freely chose?” Inside her was a war on as she fought whether to chide him or pull him down to the bed. “So the plants turned on you. That was no cause for you to show up here. I am sure you have other places to hole up in.”

“Sídhiel. I came. Is that not enough?” He was trying to cajole her, but failed. She was still angered that he had sent them both away.

“Nay, it can never be enough.” She shook her head, but was unable to hold onto her anger. Sídhiel was overjoyed. Her son would know his father and her mates would be one, once again. Taking pity on Maglor, she leaned in and kissed his cheek. “I am pleased beyond measure that you are here, but I am not the one you did the most grievous harm to.” She tilted her head toward the door. “You owe Gildor much. I do not know how you will convince him to forgive you, or trust you again, but do what you must. Crawl to him, if necessary.”

Maglor was startled by the vehemence of Sídhiel’s words, but he knew she was right. He had hurt Gildor and it would take much to convince the blond of Maglor’s constancy now. Sighing, he shifted to move when Sídhiel held him back. “I love you, just as he does. Do not lose faith that you will win his heart again. Just be patient with him.”

Maglor nodded and kissed Sídhiel gently before standing. “I love you. I do not regret coming and I promise you I will earn his trust again, meleth.”

Sídhiel smiled brightly at her lover as he walked out the door. She laid her head down to rest, all the while her hand idly stroked her stomach.

~~*~~

Gildor slammed the door behind him and stormed across the ship. He needed to get away, but there was no where to run to on a ship. His face reflected his anger and pain; the normal light grey eyes were stormy dark and his lips were set in a thin, hard line. The crew were concerned for the Lady’s health, but none would dare approach him to ask after her. It was obvious they would all be best served if they avoided him at the moment.

Doron worried and wanted to know. As he made for their cabin, Faron’s hand on his arm stopped him. “Wait, meleth. Something has occurred and we should not interfere.”

Doron’s blue eyes moved from his lover’s face back to the door. “But, what if she is hurt?”

Faron clasped his lover around the waist and pulled him close, “Then our Lord would never have left her. I have no idea what could have created such a foul mood in him, but we _should not_ interfere.” He repeated his words, trying to get through to his impetuous lover when the door to the cabin opened.

Silence reigned throughout the ship. It was not Sídhiel who stepped out, but instead, a tall, auburn-haired ellon, with flint grey eyes and a serious countenance, who strolled almost casually after Gildor. Many pairs of eyes stared after him, until Gildor turned to regard the other. Then all of the crew managed to seem busy, although, oddly enough, all had business on the top deck.

As Gildor said something to the other, Doron glanced up at Faron and then left his arms and went straight to Sídhiel’s cabin.

Startled by the knock, Sídhiel moved to stand, but then gave up and called out, “Come in already.” Her frustration at being unable to move easily and quickly was evident in her tone.

Doron was hesitant, but stepped into the dimly lit cabin. As his eyes adjusted, he looked to his Lady and smiled, if a bit awkwardly. He shut the door and then moved to the bedside where Sídhiel was still fighting to detangle her legs so she could at least sit up.

“Doron! Come in. Come in. Don’t mind my fussing. I simply hate being so ungainly.” She patted the bed next to her and laughed softly. “What brings you here?” As she saw his eyes glance to the door, she recalled. “Oh. Aye, I guess you would have questions.” Shrugging, she continued, “That is Maglor. The one we had been seeking. He was found in the swamp, but did not return with us.” She tried to sound nonchalant, but mostly failed. “I guess he decided that he wanted to come, after all.”

Sídhiel felt her mates’ anger and hurt, and as the tumult increased she knew that they needed an intermediary. Struggling for a moment to rise, she finally huffed out, “Would you please give me a hand? Stupid bed was obviously not made for pregnant ellith.”

Doron chuckled and then helped her to stand. “Thank you, Doron. I am needed out there… before things deteriorate.” She was still a bit unsteady, not having yet gained her sea legs, let alone dealt with her own rapidly changing form while still accustoming herself to the roll and sway of the ship.

“Are you certain you do not need an arm to lean upon?”

The blond haired elf had always been fond of the Lady, and now he was even more solicitous; he aided her out into the brilliant sunshine. Squinting, she looked forward and saw the dark haired elf standing stiffly while Gildor fumed at him. Sídhiel turned around, gazing at all the elves aboard the ship. All eyes were watching the scene her mates were creating. Sighing, she released Doron’s arm. “Go to Faron, and with Cannith’s help, please convince them all to return to their duties. They will hear the outcome as soon as there is one.”

Sídhiel strode up to the pair, trying her best to look dignified so she did not embarrass herself, but it was damnably hard when the deck would not stay where her feet thought it should be!

When Gildor stopped his rant in mid-sentence, Maglor turned and could not restrain the smile that lit his face. Sídhiel was beautiful. Her face glowed, even as she glared at them both. He turned to Gildor and smirked, “I suspect she is not happy with our rather public display.”

Gildor frowned at Maglor, not pleased at the dark elf’s flippant attitude, but his eyes gently caressed Sídhiel and his lips quirked upward of their own volition. She was most annoyed at them and was not making any attempt to conceal that fact.

When she reached the pair, she frowned and, crossing her arms over her chest, spoke with quiet determination. “I think you have both created enough entertainment for the crew today, so I suggest you take this inside. I would prefer that the entire ship not know our business before I do.” Sídhiel laced her arms in the others and turned back toward the cabin. “You two can either cooperate and walk back with me, or embarrass us completely by resisting.”

Maglor looked into her blue eyes and did not miss the dangerous glint. Sídhiel might be smiling, and had forgiven him, but she was not best pleased with him for Gildor’s sake. He knew better than to argue and hoped that Gildor would comply as well.

Gildor easily acquiesced. He did not desire any of this to be public and only his overwrought emotions had allowed it to go as far as it had. Though he did not smile, he looked into Sídhiel’s eyes and gained comfort from them as they returned to their cabin.

~~*~~

The door closed behind them, but the dimly lit cabin could not hide the raw pain and barely constrained fury radiating from Gildor. He quickly crossed to the bed and sat with Sídhiel for a moment, keeping his distance from Maglor, and allowing soft arms to surround him while whispered words of love and support were spoken. Finally, she nudged the blond away, forcing herself to relax and him to confront his silent lover. The constant motion and swaying of the ship caused Sídhiel’s stomach to lurch and she wanted nothing more than rest, but she feared that the brewing storm between her mates would make things worse so she could not close her eyes. She merely watched and listened, unwilling to interfere unless things got out of hand.

Gildor stood and turned to his wary and silent lover. Maglor had not moved since they entered the cabin. He was barely two steps from the door and stood watching, wanting to hold, touch, and reassure, but he knew better. Gildor had not given him leave to touch and it was obvious the blond was furious with him.

A jumble of words was rushing around in Gildor’s mind. There was too much to say and he did not know where to begin. Finally, he spoke, while holding himself tightly in check. “I have one thing only to say and then I will move out of this cabin.” He knew he was hurting Sídhiel, but Maglor’s presence did not allow Gildor to guard himself. Sitting up, Sídhiel stiffened and was about to intervene, but found it unnecessary. Maglor moved and was instantly forcing the blond to back up by his nearness.

“You would run and leave Sídhiel alone?” He was incredulous. This was not something that Gildor would do.

“She would not be alone. She would have you.” Slightly discomfited by the dark elf’s continuing press, Gildor finally splayed his hand against Maglor’s chest, halting his momentum. “I only do what you seem to want, but know this… if you hurt her, you will pay dearly.”

“Damn it! Gildor, I would not hurt her… or you! Please?” Maglor begged. “Can you not forgive me? At least acknowledge that I did come and am here?”

“I will not lie to you. I am glad you are here… for Sídhiel and the babe’s sake, but more than that, I cannot give you. I would know this… was it only for them? I alone was never enough?” Though the words were toneless, spoken without emotion and bereft of feeling, they hung in the air, weaving a dark trail around the others’ hearts.

Maglor howled in pained outrage. “Nay! Never.” He softened his reaction and moved swiftly to surround Gildor, strong arms holding tight. “I love you… always have, and always will, maethoren valthen. Please forgive a stubborn, foolish elf. I fear the Valar will take me once I set foot in Aman – I am the only one that has not paid the ultimate price. But I could no longer bear the pain of being assuredly alone for all eternity. Better to take the risk and be with you for a short time than never again.”

His dark-haired lover had always mastered his body and soul. Gildor was often helpless in the face of Maglor’s needs and desires, but this time he did not succumb. Being shoved away for the second time had been more than he could take, so the words did not thaw his icy heart or soothe his wounded pride. He was stiff in the strong arms and had to tense every muscle to keep from leaning into the one who still held such power over him. “Not this day, Maglor. Maybe someday, but I do not trust you or believe you, and I will not give you the ability to hurt me yet again.”

Maglor could not truly believe his ears. Gildor was shutting him out and refusing him? A pained gasp burst from the dark elf. His legs no longer held him upright and he slid slowly down the blond’s form until he was on his knees, clutching at Gildor’s legs. “Please? I beg of you, do not do this! I need you!”

That his dark-haired lover was on his knees, begging, nearly broke Gildor’s resolve. Maglor had never begged for anything. He was too proud, too strong to do so. Gildor knew his voice would not be steady, so he only shook his head, and stepped away. Feeling Sídhiel’s eyes upon him, he could not even look at her as he left the cabin.

The half-elf gasped, her heart crying out. She moved over as quickly as she could and wrapped herself around Maglor. She had to believe that this was just a temporary set back. There was no way she could live with her lovers being torn apart. No words would be enough, but she spoke anyway, “He will forgive you, meleth.” As shimmering dark eyes looked up at her, she felt the tears that he would not shed sliding down her face. “And, until he does, you have me…” Sídhiel took his hand and placed it on her stomach, “us.”

Maglor buried his face in auburn waves and wept silently.

~~*~~

The days and nights passed slowly, and still Gildor slept elsewhere. Sídhiel slept in Maglor’s arms, afraid to stray too far as Gildor’s rejection of him seemed to have broken something inside of the normally stoic elf. The pair spent quiet hours in the cabin, talking and reading. Sídhiel was using the opportunity to learn as much of the dark elf as he would reveal.

Even though Gildor was not avoiding her, it still deeply disturbed Sídhiel that he was not there during the night. As the time passed, she began to grow more frustrated with the situation. Finally, after weeks of waiting, the idleness and tension drove her beyond frustration. She left Maglor reading in their cabin and strode out into the overcast day. The clouds muted Anor’s bright light, but still she had to stop for a moment to allow her eyes to adjust. In that time, Doron had seen her and rushed over to Sídhiel.

“Please, my lady, may I have a minute of your time?” Doron smiled at Sídhiel, but his manner betrayed his nervousness.

Smiling at him, she nodded. “Of course. What is on your mind?”

The lieutenant moved close and haltingly asked in hushed tones, “Is it true? Are we truly denied the White Shores because… _he_ ,” he nodded his head back toward the cabin, “is aboard ship?”

This was nothing that Sídhiel had expected and she stared wide-eyed at Doron, completely at a loss for words. She had noticed the odd glances, but did not consider what stories elves sitting idle could conjure. After taking a deep breath to ensure she did not blurt out anything inappropriate, she calmly answered, “Nay. I can personally assure you that the Valar desire for Maglor to return with us, or else we would not have found him. Please tell your friends that.”

Doron felt the dismissal and nodded to the lady before walking away.

Sídhiel tried not to be angry with the crew and her blond mate, but it was most difficult. She resumed her original destination – the helm, where Gildor, Cannith and Faron were standing, though they appeared to be arguing. They had been aboard ship for over six weeks, and tensions were increasing. Gildor was sure they were sailing in circles. Cannith knew how to sail and was insulted at the implied slur to his skill, but he had no answer for the unchanging stars and the becalmed sea. Faron listened to both and tried to act as mediator and keep tempers from flaring, which was quite difficult at this point. They had not had a breeze in two days and the air was thick and humid, almost cloying. The whole ship felt on edge, all of them concerned that they were doomed to sail forever.

She knew that the Valar wanted Maglor to return to Valinor. Lord Irmo had as much as said so. Sídhiel did not for a moment believe that he was why the journey was taking so long, but she had a suspicion that the problem did lie with the dark-haired elf. She believed his separation from Gildor must be at the root of the issue.

The three ellyn paid her no mind, so engrossed were they in their argument. Having little patience left, Sídhiel cleared her throat and pulled on Gildor’s arm. “Excuse me! I have an urgent need to speak with my lord. I must take him from this discussion for a time.” Smiling at Cannith and Faron, who simply gaped at her, she turned away and tugged Gildor to follow. 

_'We are going to talk! I have waited long enough for the two of you, and I will wait no longer.'_

~~*~~

Gildor stopped before the door, but did not turn the handle. Sídhiel pressed up against his back, whispering against his neck, “Please? For me?”

Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and walked in. Sídhiel followed and closed it quietly behind them. Maglor was sitting on the bed, legs crossed, hands caressing the ancient harp in his lap. He did not open his eyes as the pair walked in, but simply began singing. His hands lightly strummed and plucked the strings, the melancholy song swirled around them, its tale of longing and of loving too much, constricted Sídhiel’s heart. She felt the desperate love that was ill-fated from the first, the pain of separation and then the long years of running. When Maglor began singing the chorus once again, the ode to his lost golden love, she turned and looked at Gildor. He stood, unmoving, tears streaming down his face. 

Swiping at her own tears which would not cease, she pushed Gildor forward. They had to work it out here and now, and she prayed fervently that they could.

Gildor allowed Sídhiel to nudge him forward a few steps, but he stopped an arm’s span from the bed, not wanting to give Maglor any encouragement.

Maglor’s song continued with a new verse that neither had heard before and Sídhiel marveled at his skill. The lyrics soared, full of joy and such intense beauty that she was captivated, until the tone changed and the light dimmed and the song became dark and bleak. Maglor’s rich baritone wove a spell such that both elves were stunned when the song ended, its last note hung in the air, a single golden clarion that spoke of hope.

Silence reigned in the cabin and Sídhiel held her breath, waiting and hoping. The dark-haired elf gently set his harp upon the bed and looked up. She had never seen him so open and vulnerable. When he at last spoke, his voice was tentative and displayed none of his normal arrogance or confidence. “I have thought long and hard upon your words, Gildor. Please forgive me? My constancy is true and I would show you. I am yours, body and soul. Though you did not know it at the time, you owned me from the first and always have.”

Gracefully, Maglor, second son of Fëanor, slid from the bed to the floor and rested upon his knees before Gildor. He lifted his face to his golden-haired lover, “Please just tell me that I may hope? That one day you will look upon me with love in your eyes once again?” Tears began to slide silently down his cheeks, “Without you I am shattered and can never be whole. Please?”

Sídhiel stood, her fist stuffed in her mouth to keep her sobs from interrupting. This was between them, but the anguish pulsing through her bond with her mates was so intense she was near to gasping.

Gildor heard Sídhiel’s indrawn breaths, and the small sounds of her sorrow made his decision easy. Holding onto the grief and pain would accomplish nothing except continue to hurt those he loved and himself, if he was honest. Taking a deep breath to keep his own voice from cracking with emotion, Gildor slid to his knees and cupped Maglor’s face in his hand. “I love you and always have. I cannot take being parted from you any longer.” He leaned over and gently kissed the soft lips.

Sídhiel felt a lurch and cried out as she steadied herself against the wall. The ship was moving!

~~*~~

_Laer, Valinor, 143 F.A._

Sídhiel stood on the steps staring through the trees for a glimpse of her mates. Suddenly she was wrapped in a warm embrace and she turned in Erestor’s arms. “Ada! You are up early.”

Erestor chuckled as he kissed her brow, “’Tis hard to sleep when one’s bed is overflowing with too many arms and legs. After Gíl-auron elbowed me in the stomach for the third time, I knew it was time for tea.”

Resting her head upon her father’s chest, Sídhiel’s eyes drifted to the path once again. She had been restless these past weeks without Gildor and Maglor, and now that they were returning, she was eager for a first glimpse. “Did you get that much needed tea? Or shall I go in and make you some?”

The early summer morning was mild, and the song of birds and happy laughter floating on the light breeze filled the dark-haired elf with contentment. Erestor’s family was safe and soon they would all be reunited. “Nay, there is no need. Logoneth would have my hide if you so much as set foot in the kitchen. She believes your sole duty is with ‘Aur.”

Laughing, Sídhiel replied, “Only when he can be pried away from Adar.” Shaking her head, “Those two…”

“… are much alike. Aye. But it is good, is it not, Sídi?”

Stepping away for a moment so that she could look Erestor in the eyes, “Better than good, Ada. I have never been happier! And soon, there will be nothing missing.” A soft jingling and voices lifted in song wafted to her ears and Sídhiel turned. There, at the end of the path were two riders, one blond and one dark. Quickly she raced down the trail, only to be swept up into strong arms and twirled around in the air.

~~*~~

As the sun drifted slowly down, its blazing light bathed the salon in vivid hues of reds, pinks, and purples. Sídhiel glanced at Anor through the wall of windows before leaning her head upon Gildor’s shoulder. She turned back and the scene before her lit her face. Glorfindel was on his knees, chasing Gíl-auron. The baby’s happy giggles were only surpassed by Glorfindel’s laughter when he caught the elfling and blew raspberries across his neck.

Sighing happily, Sídhiel lifted her head and looked at Maglor who held Gildor tightly in his embrace. Panic marred her happy mood when she saw that his eyes shone with unshed tears. 

_'What is it, meleth? There is something you have not told me… what is it? This... this was… you cannot stay?'_ She could not conceal her fear.

 _'Be not concerned.'_ Maglor opened his ‘voice’ to both his mates. _'I am not going anywhere… not for a very long time. And, as for the Valar? My only onus is to play for them, nothing more. I am simply overwhelmed. I have a family... a son… a life.'_

Gildor turned and suddenly Sídhiel was in the middle of strong arms, looking up as the blond devoured Maglor’s lips in a searing, claiming kiss. 

_'Do not forget lovers, seron vell.'_

They were together… forever.

The End... for real, this time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> ada, adar – daddy, father  
> Anor – the sun  
> elleth, ellith – female elf, elves  
> Ethuil – spring  
> Firith – late autumn  
> Iavas – early autumn  
> iôn – son  
> Laer – summer  
> maethoren valthen – my golden warrior  
> meleth – love  
> Melethron – lover  
> Rhîw – winter  
> seron vell – beloved


End file.
